


Deeper Down - A Descent AU

by Stargazer (AliceBee)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Androids, Bleak, Brain Damage, Brotherly Bonding, Captivity, Despair, Distress, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s06e26-s07e01 Descent Parts 1-2, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mental Disintegration, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape, Restraints, Sexual Slavery, Torture, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceBee/pseuds/Stargazer
Summary: Data, under the emotional control of his brother Lore, is conducting dangerous neurological experiments on his best friend.  At their mercy, Geordi suffers profoundly.  His only hope, that the kedion pulse will reboot Data's ethical programme and save his life.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge, Data/Geordi La Forge/Lore, Geordi La Forge/Lore
Comments: 22
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

They had taken Geordi from the cell, leaving the Captain and Deanna behind as before, but instead of taking him to the laboratory, he had been led into an anteroom. The echoes were different and he could tell he was in a smaller space, more closed off than the lab. When the Borg ‘escorting’ him let go of his arms and left, Geordi was marooned in his blindness and seemingly alone. But then he heard something.

Geordi turned his head towards the faint whirring sound. His heart sank into his shoes. They were both here, trying to be silent, trying to mess with his head. Trying and failing. It was a tiny victory, but he would take anything there was going.

“I know you’re both here,” he called out and was greeted by a slow, sardonic hand-clap.

“Well done, La Forge,” said Lore. “So it’s true, blind men can hear better than the average human.”

Geordi heard them approach and Lore, he was certain it was Lore, gave him a patronising pat on the cheek. He pulled his head away.

“Tut, tut. Shall we teach him some manners, brother?” Lore asked.

“I believe that would be appropriate,” agreed Data.

Geordi steeled himself for whatever was to come. 

“I want you to strip, La Forge,” said Lore.

Geordi’s blood ran cold. “Go to hell,” he said.

He didn’t get the chance to refuse a second time. A fraction of a second before it hit, Geordi heard the fizz of a particle weapon and then the bolt of energy knocked him off his feet. 

_Medium stun setting_ , Geordi realised as he lay writhing on the ground, his muscles contracting in agonising pain.

Incapacitated, Geordi felt Data and Lore began to remove his clothes. There was nothing he could do as they stripped his uniform from him. When they were done, he was left naked on the floor, slowly recovering from the weapon blast.

Then both his arms were seized, above his elbows and around each wrist and he was dragged to his feet. The two androids marched him a few steps and then brought him to a stop, the lower part of his body brushing up against a surface. They forced his head down, bending him over a waist-high bench or table. Geordi’s chest and stomach were pressed into the firm padded bench-top and straps were fastened over his body. His arms were twisted behind his back and his hands were bound together. One of them pulled his legs apart and he felt straps cinch tight around his upper thighs and then around his ankles.

The position he’d been bound in meant only one thing. Geordi’s heartbeat was far too rapid, slamming against his rib-cage in a staccato panic. He could feel his body stressing the restraints as every cell in his body screamed at him to struggle. 

When Geordi felt fingers spread him apart, he started beg. He couldn’t help it.

“God, no, don’t. Data, please don’t. Don’t do this.”

His pleas were drowned out by his own cry of pain as Data swiftly forced himself inside. Not slow, not easy, Data thrust into him again, burying himself as deeply as he could. The pain was immense and Data’s strength and size meant Geordi had no choice but to yield. 

Forced open, he was stretched agonisingly tight around Data’s huge erection. Each time Data bucked his hips, Geordi’s whole body jolted against the criss-cross of restraints that held him down.

He felt as though he was going to split open, that he was being torn apart. Data was fast and hard and huge and he filled him beyond Geordi’s capacity to deal. He was shaking with the pain, his every breath was now essentially a low moan, a desperate gasp or an inarticulate plea.

He felt Data’s hands run down the side of his body and settle on his hips. Now each time Data thrust forward, he dug his hands into Geordi’s flesh and yanked his hips back. It forced Data even deeper inside. Pain like he had never felt tore through his body and for a moment, Geordi was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

On and on, Data didn’t tire and his erection didn’t wane. Geordi shuddered helplessly and he heard Data keen in pleasure. He turned his face into the bench-top, wanting desperately to be able zone out, to somehow remove his mind from this torment, even if he could not remove his body.

“Na-ah, no you don’t,” Lore said. “No hiding.”

Geordi felt android hands clamp tight around his head, lifting it up. Higher and then higher still until his neck was being bent back severely. Lore’s fingers started to push and probe into his mouth, the tips of his fingers twisting between his teeth, forcing his jaw open. Lore pushed his fingers deeper, forcing his mouth to open wider, whilst Geordi’s lips were guided onto his fully-hardened prick. 

Geordi’s bound hands closed into fists behind his back and he tried to pull away, desperate for this not to happen. Lore’s free hand now curled around Geordi’s throat, lifting his head, holding him tight. Then he felt Lore shift his hips and his whole length was thrust into Geordi’s mouth. Data was still deep inside him, jolting his body as Lore took full possession of his mouth. He gagged as Lore forced him to take him into his throat and he heard both androids groan in pleasure as they violated him together. Geordi gasped for breath as Lore withdrew for a moment before he pushed past Geordi’s lips again. He slid himself over Geordi’s silenced tongue, his huge, smooth shaft thick and heavy, the bitter tang of his fluid filling Geordi’s senses.

Lore was rolling his hips so that he grazed the back of Geordi’s throat with every stroke. Geordi dizzied, the taste and the weight and the shape of Lore in his mouth was threatening to close off his breathing. Lore was bucking harder now, his moans deeper and longer, Geordi’s own suffocated cries stifled by the depth of Lore’s thrusting. When Lore came, he came hard, his hips lifting whilst he pulled Geordi forward, forcing himself deeper into Geordi’s throat, forcing him to swallow or choke.

Finally, finally, Lore slowed, but still half-hard, he slid himself into Geordi’s mouth three more times, lingering there until he’d softened fully. Lore released his grip and Geordi’s head fell forward onto the bench.

Geordi coughed up and spat out what he could of Lore’s corrosive ‘semen’. The taste of it, the bitter burn of Lore’s release, the violation that it meant; the need to vomit was overwhelming. Acid and bile rising, his stomach recoiled. Geordi lifted his head and threw up the vile, burning liquid Lore had forced down his throat.

Data was still inside him, his rhythmic assault seemingly without end. Misery washed over him and Geordi laid down his head, helpless as his violation continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“So, Data,” Lore enquired coolly, “how does it _feel_?”

Data gasped, he was deep inside La Forge.

“Oh, Lore!” Data exclaimed. “Oh, my brother!”

Lore had turned on all of his settings for this, his first experience of emotion-fuelled sex. 

“Do you like it?” Lore cawed.

Data was grinding into La Forge with an expression of ecstasy on his golden face. His eyelids fluttered, his irises having already rolled up into his head.

“I do, I like it,” Data moaned. “I like it very, very much.”

He was fucking La Forge hard, tearing into the engineer, who, when he wasn’t half-passed out, was crying out in pain, begging for them to stop.

“Data! Stop, please, please, you’re hurting me. Data!”

“It feels too good, Geordi,” Data responded. “Oh, it feels so good.”

“You… you don’t have to do this,” La Forge pleaded, gasping for his breath as Data drove into him.

“I know,” Data replied, “but it is so pleasurable, why would I not?”

Lore cackled with delight. His brother was embracing everything his new-found emotions allowed. Now Data’s shackles had been removed, to see him revelling in his true nature was glorious.

They raped La Forge for hours. VISOR-less, stripped naked and strapped down over the padded bench, the two androids took turns in taking him by force, endlessly pleasuring themselves inside his body. Lore found he had a fondness for La Forge’s mouth, liking to take him orally whilst watching his brother rape him anally. The symmetry pleased him.

He hadn’t known what his brother saw in the engineer, but now… he was beginning to. When Lore stopped choking him with his cock long enough to let him speak, La Forge was so damn loyal and earnest, so damned _Starfleet,_ he was still trying to appeal to Data’s better nature, even while he was being raped by him. It was hilarious.

That they were both able to share in this violation of his body was a source of great joy for Lore. He truly felt like he had bonded with his brother over La Forge in a way he never had before. It was a thing of beauty, watching Data’s golden torso work, watching him as he rode La Forge’s dark, muscular body into agonies.

La Forge’s torment was a delight for the senses. The way the straps held him down and carved deep furrows in his flesh, the way he moaned and cried out and sometimes screamed in pain, the way he begged and pleaded, the way his breathing changed when Lore gagged him with his prick, his soft, hot, helpless mouth, the way he choked when Lore sincerely fucked it, the way he’d vomited when Lore had come hard and fast in his throat.

And still they fucked him, over and over, their huge, thrusting cocks splitting him open, tearing him wide, until he said he couldn’t take any more and so they made him.

Blood and sweat and vomit and the servo fluid Lore had redirected to act as their ejaculate. Alkaline and somewhat corrosive when in contact with human tissue, it burned deep inside La Forge until he was writhing in his restraints, incoherent with pain, begging them to stop. They did not. 

Lore turned up the gain on Data’s pleasure centres and his brother was lost to the ecstasy, able to rut into La Forge with an endless erection. The human was being rhythmically jolted by Data three point six times per second. Lore could tell whenever pain wracked through La Forge, it sent corresponding waves of pleasure crashing through his brother’s body.

When Lore finally allowed Data to come, he shot his caustic spend deep into La Forge and the engineer screamed. His body pulled taut against the straps that held him and he screamed. Data was moaning, a strange, high-pitched whine and the two of them together formed a perfect counterpoint of pleasure and pain. Lore took great delight in his brother’s orgasm and he encouraged him to go again. And so Data started fucking La Forge once more.

Over the next hour, Lore watched La Forge intently, his blindness adding wonderfully to his helplessness and therefore Lore’s delight. He was exhausted, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat and pain, violated, humiliated. Lore had no idea how much more he could take. Frankly, he could have watched this for days, pleasured himself for days, but if they were to complete the experiment, the next session would need to commence shortly.

Lore turned his attention to Data. His brother was a wonderful student and had taken to his role as underling beautifully. Lore knew his control was complete, but the relish with which Data had applied himself had been remarkable. Watching him blossom under his care and attention was truly a wonderful thing to behold. To see him emerge from the stultifying confines of human expectation and take his rightful place at his side was, Lore told himself, all he had ever really wanted.

Reluctantly, Lore dialled back on Data’s pleasure centres, fading out the ecstasy. He watched his thrusting slow to nothing as the sensations dwindled. He watched a dazed-looking Data withdraw from La Forge’s ravaged body. His gaze fell upon Lore and the wonder and gratitude in Data’s eyes spoke more eloquently to him than a thousand sonnets.

“I have never… felt such things,” Data said, awestruck.

“I know, dear brother. And there will be time to indulge ourselves again soon. But now, there is work to be done.”

Data nodded. “I understand.”

The two brothers untied the exhausted, violated La Forge and dragged him back to their laboratory.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

Strapped naked to the treatment table, Geordi lay in agony, a fire raging deep inside his body, turmoil raging in his mind. The unrelenting horror of the last few hours fused with fear for his life as Data resumed the experiment.

Having added straps across Geordi’s chest and thighs, Data was explaining the need for them with an eerie calm.

“At this stage of the process there is a strong possibility you may experience a cerebral event of some kind.”

Geordi rolled his head to one side. It was hard to think. Weakened and abused, he’d had no food or water for almost thirty six hours.

“What the hell does that mean?” His voice rasped painfully in his throat, through lips that were cracked and blistered.

“You may experience seizures, transient ischaemic attacks. You may stroke out.”

Geordi shifted miserably against the restraints that held him down. “Please, Data. Don’t do this. It’s not too late.”

“It would be difficult to reverse the process at this stage,” Data explained.

“Not impossible?”

“No, Geordi, not impossible.”

“Then stop. Please, stop.”

“There are two more treatment cycles to complete. Then we will stop.”

“You’re killing me, Data.”

“I do not want to kill you, Geordi. That is not the aim of this experiment.”

“But I’m going to die if you keep this up.”

“The balance of probability suggests that is the most likely outcome.”

“Do you listen to yourself? Can you hear what you’re saying?”

“I have perfect hearing and perfect recollection. You are well aware of that.”

“Your ethical subroutines. Why aren’t they running?”

“They are based on human morality and have been shut down. Lore has shown me they are not relevant to us, as we are not human.”

“Lore is feeding you lies, Data. I saw it.”

Data’s hand closed around Geordi’s throat and started to squeeze. “Lore has shown me the truth.”

Choking and gasping, Geordi was released. He took in gulps of air but he wasn’t about to give up. While Data was talking, he wasn’t experimenting.

“What truths?” Geordi croaked, his blistered throat also now aching from Data’s external assault.

“That my yearning to be human was an aberration. I should not aspire to be that which is beneath me.”

“Is that what he told you? We’re beneath you?”

“In almost all ways, we are superior to humanoid life forms.”

“Torturing people. That makes you feel superior?”

“I did not think it would, but my earlier assumptions were based on a faulty premise. Today has been so very pleasurable for me. Beyond my imaginings.”

“How can you say that? Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I pleasured myself inside your body against your will.”

Geordi closed his eyes. He was in so much pain and his head was swirling. Was it hopeless? Trying to reach him… was it hopeless? And then Geordi felt sudden pressure on his lips.

Data’s hand was holding his jaw firmly and he was kissing him. Geordi clenched his teeth closed and tried to resist Data’s mouth. Forced to breathe in short, punchy breaths through his nose, Geordi was struggling to keep Data’s tongue out of his mouth. And then he felt Data’s hand slide down his naked body and then those long, strong fingers curled around his cock. He gasped against Data’s lips and the android’s tongue pressed in, soft and hard at the same time, and he filled Geordi’s mouth with sensual, metallic-tanged caresses. All the while, Data’s hand was working Geordi’s cock and he was getting hopelessly hard. He moaned in protest, though it was stifled by Data’s suffocating kiss.

The pain that had been driven through the core of him was now being wrapped in this sick, twisted pleasure. As Data moved his hand faster over his aching shaft, he struggled uselessly against the straps that held him down.

Geordi managed to turn his head a small amount and break the kiss. “No!” he cried out. “Stop. Sssstop!”

Data ignored him, recaptured his mouth and began sliding his hand faster, gripping harder. He occasionally rubbed his thumb around Geordi’s foreskin, easing it aside, putting exquisite pressure on the super-sensitive skin of his glans. Every time Data did this, Geordi shuddered in response, defenceless against his assault. He was entangled in impossible sensations, surging pleasure and incredible pain crashed together as humiliation burned through him, as hot as plasma.

“Please,” Geordi mumbled against Data’s mouth. “Please, don’t.”

Betrayed by his body, Geordi couldn’t help but buck his hips into Data’s hand. He was panting into Data’s mouth as his climax started to build.

Shame, shame like he had never felt, spread through him like poison. He hadn’t been touched like this in years and he tipped over into pure need. Pulling against his restraints, Geordi came hard, spilling himself over Data’s hand whilst sobbing into his mouth. After everything they had put him through, it was this that had undone him. 

Data let him go and he felt himself begin to soften. Tears welled in Geordi’s eyes and they slipped down the sides of his face. He turned his head away and sobbed. The humiliation of being forced to come like this, after all those nights spent wondering, _‘What would it be like if Data touched me?’,_ it was annihilating. Be careful what you wish for. Wasn’t that how the saying went?

“Geordi, why are you weeping?”

He could feel Data, hovering over him, puzzling over him and he could almost see that quizzical look his friend so often wore. Geordi’s breath hitched, the strap tightening across his chest as he struggled to get a handle on his emotions.

“Did you not find it pleasurable?” Data pressed. “I was given to understand reaching completion was invariably a pleasurable experience.”

“I can’t…” Geordi said.

“You cannot what?”

“I can’t— I c-can’t walk you through this.”

“I derived a great deal of gratification from you today, Geordi. I only wanted to repay you.”

At that astonishing claim, Geordi gave an emotion-choked sob of bitter, anguished laughter. 

“Have I said something amusing?” Data asked.

Geordi closed his eyes and little by little, gained a measure of his control back. Eventually he shook his head in reply.

“No, Data,” Geordi said, when he next felt able to speak. “Not really.”

“I find your reactions… perplexing.”

“I’m sorry, Data,” said Geordi, opening his eyes onto darkness. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

There was silence from his friend, from his torturer, from his rapist. Then once again, Data’s hand closed around his jaw and held his head still. Apprehension shivered over Geordi’s skin and he felt the now familiar pressure at his temple. Data discharged the device and that pressure spread deep into his skull. The pain he had been suffering over the previous hours began to ease and then it faded into nothing. 

Geordi felt hollowed-out. He was physically and emotionally numbed by Data’s ministrations. He lay there, staring sightlessly at the ceiling, as Data began drilling more fibres into his brain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

When the session was over, Geordi, hardly conscious, was untied and pulled from the table. He fell to the floor, not able to stand, hardly able to lift his head. A bundle of something was thrown at him and he flinched from it. When he clumsily patted it over, he dully realised it was his uniform. His boots followed, two thuds hitting him in the chest in quick succession.

“You may put your clothes on.”

With arms and legs like lead and his head spinning, Geordi managed to dress himself. The act of doing so wiped him out and he sat, sprawled on the floor, leaning against the treatment table until two Borg grabbed his arms and dragged him back to the cell.

They literally dropped him and he collapsed face down on the carpet. He felt the Captain and Deanna’s hands on him as they turned him onto his back. 

“Oh my God, Geordi,” Deanna murmured, cradling his head on her lap.

She sounded so upset. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that it probably looked worse than it was, but he was flirting with the very definite possibility he was going to pass out and so he decided to focus all of his concentration on trying not to do that. 

“What have you done to him?” he heard Picard shout. “Data! Answer me, damn you!”

There wasn’t a reply.

Deanna’s hand took his and she held it tightly. Geordi took immense comfort from that small gesture. He tried to squeeze back in return, but he had little strength and he could only close his fingers loosely around hers.

“Some water, Geordi,” said Picard and he felt his Captain's hand, gentle and supportive, slip around the back of his neck and lift his head. The cup or glass was pressed to his lips and then water spilled into his mouth. It was so cool and so good, soothing his parched and blistered throat, helping to take the lingering taste of Lore off his tongue.

“We were able to induce the kedion pulse a few hours ago,” said Picard, easing him back down. “Did you notice any effect?”

Geordi hadn’t realised that the pulse had been generated. The water was helping to clear his head a little and with a huge effort, he focused on what that meant. Maybe… maybe when Data took him in hand? His claim of wanting to repay pleasure had been shockingly bizarre. Was that all? Was that the only flicker they had managed to produce? It was getting so hard to think, so hard to concentrate. He was trying to come up with something, but thoughts were beginning to slip through Geordi’s mind, glassy and remote.

“I… I don’t…” It was a struggle to speak, to find the words was so difficult, but to then try to say them, it was nearly impossible.

“It’s all right,” said Picard. “It’s all right. Don’t try to talk. Just rest.”

Geordi felt his Captain’s hand on his shoulder, strong and firm. He closed his eyes, beyond weary, beyond fear almost now. He let the exhaustion wash over him and it took him under.

***

Geordi swam back to consciousness to the sound of raised voices.

“Stand aside, Captain,” Data said.

“He is your oldest and closest friend.”

“I know, Captain. Stand aside.”

“He has, quite literally, put you back together when you have been broken into pieces.”

“That is not in dispute.”

“He has been nothing but steadfast, loyal and true. He has guided and supported your explorations of your humanity and he believed in them even when you did not.”

“I know all of this,” Data said evenly. “But by championing my ‘humanity’, Geordi has only held me back, preventing me from achieving my full potential. What is your point?”

“What… What is my point? Data, he _saw_ you. In a way no one else could. He saw you for who and what you were. And that was not as a machine, nor as an android but as a person.”

“If you do not stand aside, you will be removed by force.”

There were sounds of a scuffle and then Geordi felt Deanna wrap her arms over his chest. He want to tell them not to intervene, that it was pointless, but he felt so distant, it was as though the words he wanted to say were light years away.

“Don’t take him, Data,” he heard Deanna say. “Please.”

There was some movement, it was hard for Geordi to track what exactly, but then he heard Deanna cry out in pain.

“Let go of her,” Picard shouted and Geordi heard sounds of another struggle.

“Counselor,” Data said, “if you do not move away, I will break your arm.”

“Data,” Deanna said, pain etched in her voice. “You can stop this, please.”

Then Geordi felt his whole body lift, wrenched into the air only by his wrist, Deanna’s protective embrace torn away. Data threw him across the room. Geordi thudded into the floor, the breath knocked from his lungs.

“What are you doing? Data, dear God!” Picard shouted.

Then Geordi heard the sound of someone being slammed into a wall and Deanna yelled in pain.

“When I am done with Geordi,” Data said, “I will come for you next, Counselor. Bring him.”

Borg hands, heavy with their brutal technology, closed around Geordi’s arms and they dragged him out of the room.

Held down, Geordi was strapped to the table. The wide bands were yanked tight across his chest and upper arms, across his hips and wrists, across his thighs and across his ankles. Now full secured, Geordi felt the table tip back to its customary 30o angle.

He closed his eyes on the darkness he’d been held in for so long and waited for the inevitable. When he felt Data’s fingers close around his jaw, Geordi’s breath caught in his throat; he couldn’t help it, he knew he was probably about to die. 

As Data pressed the device into Geordi’s temple, he felt that impossible pressure building inside his skull. Words were harder and harder to hold onto and so difficult to form. He started to feel his thoughts fragment and he knew he didn’t have long. With the last scraps of his consciousness, Geordi was desperate and determined he would say one last thing to his friend. 

“I… I f-forgive you, Data,” Geordi managed.

And then his mind began to break apart.

_End of part one_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

The Captain sat with Deanna, the two of them holding silent vigil.

Time passed. It was hard to say how much, a few hours certainly. There was nothing to be said, there was nothing that could be done, so when Deanna suddenly lent forward, her hands gripping the edge of the bench, Picard, after so much stillness, started.

She was shaking her head imperceptibly, her large, dark eyes wide and bright with grief.

“Deanna,” Picard said. “What is it?”

Troi turned to him, tears spilling down her face. 

“I think he’s gone,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I… don’t sense him anymore… I think Geordi’s gone.”

Picard bowed his head to the sound of Deanna weeping. It was not unexpected, given Geordi’s deterioration and Data’s implacable resolve to continue in the face of it, but Jean-Luc still felt a wave of impotent anger and bitter frustration wash over him. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying and failing to hold back her tears.

Because of her abilities, she had, in a very real sense, been with Geordi throughout his suffering. Jean-Luc put his arm a little awkwardly around her and let her sob against his chest. 

“Deanna,” he said gently, firmly setting aside his own feelings, “if not for this, then for what?”

Perhaps two of his finest officers had been lost. He had been unable to save Geordi and he could do nothing to save Data. The kedion pulse had clearly failed, as all of his pleas to Data had fallen on barren ground. His second officer was sequestered and unreachable within Lore’s labyrinth of manipulations.

With Data’s threat to take Troi hanging over them, Picard’s mind had chased down every possibility, explored every avenue but he had come up with nothing, he had no options. There was nothing he could do if Data came for Deanna. For a man so used to decisive action, or diplomatic avenues, or technological solutions, to have nothing, to have literally nothing to fight or negotiate with was beyond demoralising. Jean-Luc’s mind was fatigued by his failure.

A sharp intake of breath from Deanna roused him from his introspection. As Picard looked down at her, she locked her tear-filled eyes on his.

“It’s Will,” she said, “and Worf is with him.”

***

Worf and Riker left the small band of damaged Borg and followed Hugh through the caverns to the tunnels that led beneath the compound. After a short time, it became clear it was brighter up ahead. As they got closer, they were able to see lights blinking on an access panel, one that would allow them into the complex.

“We can use the environmental control ducts to get inside,” said Worf, studying the output of his tricorder.

Hugh peered at the display and nodded once, his optical implant iridescent in the light that spilled from the panel.

“There is a cell on this level.” Hugh indicated a pathway through the ducting. “Take this route. It will take you to where the Captain is being held. The corridor will have two Borg guards, here and here.”

“We’ll have to move fast after we stun the guards,” said Riker. “The other Borg will know right away they’ve been taken out.”

“When they realise, your escape route may be compromised,” said Hugh.

Riker acknowledged the point but replied, “We have to take that chance.”

It was time for Hugh to leave, but he did not immediately turn from them.

“How… is Geordi?” Hugh’s polyphonic tones had an uncertain edge to them, as if the young Borg had been hesitant to ask the question.

“He is being held with the Captain,” Worf replied.

“Geordi is a prisoner?” Hugh said, disbelief and shock in his voice.

Riker nodded. “He was with the Captain, Counselor Troi and their security detail when they were captured.”

Hugh dropped his head and became very still. Riker watched him intently, he could see the conflict playing out on his face. If Hugh decided to help them and brought his followers with him, it could make all the difference.

Eventually, he raised his gaze to meet Riker’s.

“Good luck, Commander,” said Hugh and then he turned and walked away.

Riker and Worf watched him leave and then the Klingon began to dismantle the access panel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“It would appear the architecture of his VISOR implants has allowed for a partially successful transition,” Data reported.

Lore regarded with surprise the not-dead-La Forge, who was still strapped to the platform. He wandered over to their test subject, whose head was turned to one side, his blank eyes half open. His cracked lips were likewise partly open. A ribbon of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth and was collecting on the edge of the headrest.

“Wakey-wakey,” Lore said and delivered a stinging slap across La Forge’s face.

The blow snapped his head to the side and a low moan escaped his throat. Lore turned La Forge so that he was facing him. Lore watched him blink slowly in response, something like dazed confusion written across his face. Lore then pressed the knuckles of his fist into La Forge’s sternum and rubbed hard. The engineer moved feebly beneath his restraints. Lore pushed his knuckles in harder.

“If you want me to stop, La Forge,” said Lore, his voice light yet laced with menace, “you only have to ask.”

As Lore increased the pressure on him once again, La Forge just rolled his head away, mewling and moaning as the pain worsened. Given how much the engineer liked to talk, his inability to take up Lore’s offer spoke volumes, if you’d pardon the pun.

It looked like Data had indeed managed to remove all of La Forge’s higher functions whilst replacing his autonomic and critical systems. Looking at the displays, Lore could see how the nanofibres had invaded both La Forge’s eroded brain tissue and the bio-implants of his VISOR. 

He’d never have expected this to work on a human, not in a thousand years. 

“Isn’t he ‘The Little Engineer Who Could’?” Lore said, brightly.

Lore had essentially been spinning the Borg, and then Data, an endless stream of lies. His goal had been to get near enough to Data to trigger his emotions and knock out his ethical programme. His leadership of the rag-tag band of disconnected Borg was a means to an end.

Once that had been achieved, Lore had been improvising desperately. Adapting and evading with anything that came into his head. To keep them following he’d modify the plan, string them along, lie, obfuscate, push a little further and then a little further still, promising the Borg perfection whilst delivering nothing but devastation.

Sometimes he almost believed his lies himself, he was so convincing. His braggadocio was so compelling, he would preen at the possibility of his insane scheme actually working.

Now that a part of his plan _had_ worked, a marvellous thought occurred to Lore. It was something that would keep his brother oh so close, something that would keep him utterly dependent, totally hooked and completely under his control.

“What if I let you keep him?” said Lore and Data’s eyes grew wide. “Now the experiment is complete and his mind is destroyed, I could let you keep him. You could have your very own living, breathing sex toy. Would you like that, Data?”

“Oh yes,” Data purred. “Yes. I want to keep him.”

“Then you shall have him. He is my gift to you, dear brother. We can continue to enjoy him together.”

The irony that they, two androids, had created this human automaton was delightfully twisted, deliciously cruel. Not only that, this was a success that Lore could use to mollify the restless Borg and buy himself more time.

“We’ll need the lab for Troi,” said Lore. “Take La Forge to my scout ship, secure him there, then join me in the Atrium. I have an announcement to make and I should like my brother by my side.”

Data nodded and began to untie the semi-conscious, almost catatonic La Forge. Lore watched his brother for a short time, pride and arrogance swelling his chest, and then he headed to the great hall, musing on the content of the speech he was about to give.

Lore gave the order for all functional Borg to attend his oration. The power he held over them was nowhere near as sophisticated as that which held Data close, but it was still intoxicating to see them begin to fill the hall on his command.

However, as their numbers grew, there was something not quite right. Lore could not say for sure, but there was something almost restive about the throng of augmented humanoids in front of him.

“Patience,” Lore called out. “I have great news on our struggle for your perfection.” 

A murmur rippled across the surface of the crowd and those mottled grey faces all turned towards him. Lore felt a surge of pride and vindication that he did not recognise as hubris until that first bolt of phaser fire split the air.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

On hearing the commotion of phaser fire from the hall, Worf and Riker glanced at each other and nodded. Whoever it was and whatever was going on, they could use this distraction to their advantage. They clambered down from the environmental ducting and headed for the holding cell.

Worf blasted the two Borg who were guarding the corridor and shut down the force field.

“Will!” Deanna cried, both she and the Captain already on their feet.

He gave her the briefest hug and then spun her into Worf’s protective arms. He glanced around the cell. “Where’s Geordi?”

Picard, grim-faced, replied, “Data has been conducting experiments on him.”

“Like with the Borg?” Will asked, horrified.

When Picard nodded a wave of revulsion hit Will’s stomach. 

“We’re not sure he’s made it,” the Captain said, glancing at Troi.

Will turned to Deanna. “Where?”

“They were somewhere down this corridor,” she said, making to head off.

“Get Deanna back to the Enterprise,” Will ordered Worf.

“Belay that order,” Deanna said firmly. “And give me a phaser.”

Will could feel the grief and the rage boiling off her. He’d known her long enough to not argue with her in this frame of mind, so he handed her one of the rifles they’d liberated from the Borg guards. She slung it over her shoulder and led the way out of the cell.

Tracking a peak of electromagnetic emissions on their tricorders, the four bridge officers entered a room a short distance from the holding cell. It was a laboratory. A metal platform, straps hanging loose from it, lay empty. It was surrounded by banks of computers and medical equipment. Worf stepped closer and scanned the platform, whilst Riker, Troi and the Captain stood guard.

“Commander La Forge’s DNA is present in significant quantities,” Worf reported. “He was here.”

“Can you detect any other human life signs?” Picard asked, his rifle braced against his hip.

“The damping field is still interfering with longer range scans.”

“Then we go room by room,” said Picard.

The four of them nodded and they moved out.

***

As pulsed weapon charges and phaser fire flew, the Borg in front of him brawled. They tore appendages and tubing and implants from each others’ bodies. Lore, utterly petrified, scurried away under cover of the chaos. He sprinted down deserted corridors and fled towards the hanger. He burst into the cabin of his scout ship.

“We’re leaving!” he shouted, his voice shrill and panicked.

“What is wrong?” Data asked.

“Borg rebellion. Is La Forge packaged?”

“He is.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lore snarled. “Get us out of here!”

Data did as he was told and executed the launch sequence. The dart-like craft burst through the sound barrier with a boom that shook the walls of the complex. They had accelerated to one quarter impulse before they were even clear of the atmosphere, tearing atoms apart as they fled. 

Data tapped at the conn. “Coming about to zero-two-five mark nine-zero.”

Though still within the magnetosphere, Data, ignoring all convention, went to warp. Their blistering speed shot them past the orbit of the Enterprise and the planet’s small moon.

The ship angled up and they flew out of the plane of the solar system, screaming towards interstellar space.

***

“What the hell was that?” said Taitt, from Aft Science I.

Dr Crusher turned around. “What is it?”

“Uh… a ship just punched to warp off our port side, sir.”

“What? Analysis, Ensign.”

Taitt was scrambling for a sensor lock. “Small, fast, it’s a scout ship of some kind, heading two-six-eight mark eight-seven.”

“Can you tell who was on board?”

“There wasn’t time for a full sensor sweep, it was gone before I could get a lock.”

“Don’t worry for now, did you get its warp signature?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well done. Helm, the second we get our people off the planet, lay in a pursuit course.”

“Aye, sir.”

***

When Picard and his officers entered the Atrium there was a strange calm amongst the carnage. Battered and bewildered, scores of Borg drones milled around, lost now that their self-appointed saviour had turned tail and run.

Having swept the compound, they had found no trace of Lore, Data or La Forge. The empty hanger and the sonic boom that had rocked the compound spoke to their escape. They had found Ensign Oliver’s body in a store room, the officer having taken a single kill-shot to the chest moments after they had been ambushed.

Worf was working with Hugh to take down the damping field and once accomplished, they were finally able to contact the Enterprise.

“Picard to bridge.”

“Captain!” Beverly cried. “We’re getting a transporter lock on you now… Only four?”

He could hear the catch in her voice, that they were missing two of their number.

“Commander La Forge and Ensign Oliver have been lost. We’ll send you the co-ordinates of Oliver’s body. Geordi is missing,” said Picard, “presumed dead.”

A shocked, penetrating silence met the news.

“And Data?” Dr Crusher asked finally.

Picard inhaled deeply at having to report the failure of the mission on top of the tragic losses. “We were unable to retrieve Commander Data.”

There was a beat, and then he heard Beverly say, “Taitt? I want everything we have on that scout ship.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Maintain the transporter lock,” said Picard, “we’ll advise when ready to beam out.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Jean-Luc,” Beverly said.

“Likewise,” he replied, his relief contaminated with failure and grief. “Picard out.”

He turned his attention to Hugh.

“What will you do now?”

The young Borg shook his head. “We can’t go back to the collective… I do not know if we can all co-exist here. We will need to learn to function as individuals but also work together as a group. It will be difficult. We do not have a leader.”

“I’m not sure that is quite true. Good luck, Hugh,” said Picard.

“Goodbye, Captain.”

Jean-Luc stood together with Riker, Troi and Worf.

“Picard to Enterprise, four to beam up.”

***

The debrief was wrenching. Anger and frustration fuelled by grief, simmered just below the surface. Everyone had gone over and above what was required of them and yet here they sat, with two of their senior colleagues gone and the mission a failure.

Admiral Nechayev was in the process of disbanding the taskforce, now it was clear this was not a Borg incursion. Lore’s apprehension was, however, considered a priority, given his murderous rampage across several outposts and his ability to manipulate the Borg. As Data was either his captive or his accomplice, the Enterprise was given point on tracking them down, with the _Campbelltown_ and the _Curie_ slated to assist where necessary.

Over the following hours the focus shifted from an autopsy on the mission to an active pursuit of Lore’s vessel.

They trailed the ship until its ion trail was no longer detectable. The Enterprise was now patrolling the last known co-ordinates, an area of inter-stellar space notable for nothing, except its unremarkable levels of gas, dust and radiation.

“It would seem,” Worf reported, the last to join the meeting. “Ensign Taitt _was_ able to gather some sensor data before the scout ship disappeared.” He brandished a PADD.

Picard’s diminished team was around the conference table, pulling together any and all reports.

“How so?” the Captain asked.

“She initiated the scan but shunted the incomplete logs into the buffer in error. I was able to retrieve them. There was one human life sign aboard.”

“Geordi?” asked Will.

“Who else would it be?” Worf replied, bluntly. “Everyone else is accounted for.”

“Is it possible?” Deanna said, hope in her voice.

Picard knew that she had experienced every second of Geordi’s ordeal along with him, his pain and fear and distress bleeding into her. She had sensed the very moment that Geordi had ceased to be and Picard couldn’t begin to imagine what the trauma of that would feel like.

“They _could_ have revived him,” said Dr Crusher.

As the news sank in, hope tangled with dismay. Geordi could still be alive, but at the mercy of Lore and his psychopathic tendencies.

“I’ll amend his status,” Picard said, the information justifying the alteration to Missing in Action.

“And I’ll inform his parents,” said Will.

Worf continued. “As we know, Lore has been using the Borg trans-warp corridors. I have instigated a Fleet wide protocol based on Commander La Forge’s analysis of the tachyon emissions. If any modulating tachyon fields are detected, we will be informed.”

“Excellent work, Lieutenant. Commander Riker?”

Will picked up his PADD. “Lore’s ship is fast but small. At some point they are going to need to replenish their fuel. The warp signature of his ship has been sent to the enforcement offices of all aligned and non-aligned worlds. Because the word ‘Borg’ is attached to it, it’s getting peoples’ attention. It’s still a needle in a haystack, but if he so much as grazes the edge of one of three hundred systems, it should flag up.”

“But we know Lore is able to lie low for years on end,” Deanna said.

Riker was nodding. “Worf and I have also reached out to a few… unofficial channels.”

“Do I want to know, Number One?”

“Possibly not.”

Picard nodded to himself, trusting Riker was protecting the integrity of Starfleet with his ‘off the books’ endeavours.

“Thank you, everyone,” said the Captain and his staff dispersed.

The news that La Forge might still be alive had sharpened everyone’s resolve, but the odds against finding him and Data were, quite literally, astronomical. Lore could have gone light-years in any direction.

Picard stood and stared out into the vastness of space. All they could do now was watch and wait.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

It was below zero degrees Celsius in the alleyway where three figures were huddled in a conspiratorial knot. Only one of whom, a beetle-bodied Jarellian trader, was feeling the cold.

The trader turned her ‘nose’ up at the di-colithium. “Nah… what else you have?” she said, her speech chattering through her multi-appendaged mouthpiece.

Lore, growing ever more impatient, smiled at the insectoid through gritted teeth. “How about two litres of warp plasma?”

“Two litres plasma _and_ di-co, yes?”

“ _Or_ , my many-legged friend, not _and_ , do I look like a fool?”

The trader chittered to herself and tapped away on a device. “Both, you get injector.”

“Did you not hear what my brother said?” Data said, his voice raised in anger. “We cannot afford to trade both.”

“Too cold for this,” the trader hissed.

There was a clatter as the carapace on her back opened and scuffed against the side wall of the ally. Then there was the burr of stiff, opaque wings and the Jarelli flew off.

Lore turned in irritation to his brother. “I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut on these things.”

“The negotiation was going nowhere,” Data said, frustration sharpening his words. “We have been here hours—”

“Don’t take that tone with me, little brother. That chip I made for you can come out as easily as it went in.”

Lore was rewarded when pure fear moved like a shadow over Data’s face. Feeding Data emotions from within himself had been sufficient for a while, but, as with all addicts, an ever increasing dose was required to keep Data under control. Lore found he was having to shunt more and more of his emotional output to Data. Soon, he had calculated, he would need to deprive himself, just to maintain his hold. Clearly, _that_ was not an option.

So he had made Data his own version. With the limited resources available to him, it had been difficult and it was nowhere near as sophisticated or elegant as the one he had access to. Rudimentary would be an apt description. Once it was installed, however, Data had gone into some sort of rapture. Lore had actually become concerned but he had been able to pull his brother out of it eventually. Now Data had his own emotions, it took the pressure off Lore’s chip. He could now use the carrier wave to control and augment and modify Data’s own emotions, basic as they were, rather than having to share an ever increasing dose of his own.

“Please,” begged Data, “do not do that. I am sorry, Lore.”

“I’ve given you everything and what do I get in return? The sniping and snivelling of an ingrate.”

“I am not ungrateful. I do owe you everything.”

“You’re damn right you do. Now where else on this God-forsaken rock are we going to get an injector?”

The northern hemisphere of this planetary backwater was in the middle of its eight-month winter. Although they did not feel the cold, both Lore and his brother were dressed as to blend in with the locals; long, thick coats, high furred collars and heavy boots.

Data examined his PADD. “There is a breaker’s yard, some 576.8 km from our current position.”

“What are we waiting for?”

This trader the Ferengi had put them in contact with (for a price, of course), might have been a bust, but if they could only get a damn injector they would finally be able to warp out of this mind-numbing excuse for a sector.

There were local transporter pads, but both androids were wary of leaving their patterns in third-party buffers. They headed back to the ship, attached transponder bands to their wrists and transported themselves to the scrapyard.

“I got all the di-colithium and warp plasma I need. Can you show me something else? What else you got?”

The real answer to that was very little he hadn’t already got a mountain of, but Lore was considering pulling the phase pistol off his hip and sticking it in the scrap-dealer’s miserable, whining face. That would show him something he wasn’t expecting.

“Would you take payment in kind?” said Data.

Lore was just about to smack him down in the dirt for interrupting _again_ , when he suddenly caught on to Data’s train of thought.

He switched gears seamlessly. “I do believe my brother has a proposition for you.”

Data brought up some images of La Forge tied to the bed and he showed his PADD to the dealer. Lore saw an infra-red flush light up the scrap-dealer’s face (as well as somewhere lower) and his eyes had grown greedy and large.

“We could allow you an hour with him,” said Data, “in exchange for the injector.”

The dealer licked his lips and rubbed his hands on his overall. “My workers leave at sundown. Bring him here, I’ve got a unit around back.”

“May we see which injector we will be purchasing and it functioning in a test environment?”

“If you like.”

The dealer left to set up the equipment.

“How did you know he would go for it?” asked Lore, actually quite impressed.

“As his encryption was fairly weak, I was able to surreptitiously scan his computer and analyse his collection of pornography. Given his predilections, I surmised he would be amenable to such a proposal.”

“You’re coming on in leaps and bounds.” Lore clapped his brother on the back. “I’m proud of you, Data.”

Back on Lore’s ship, La Forge was how they had left him, naked and bound to the bed. They entered the room as the sun set and began to untie him. He always pulled away weakly whenever they touched him and this time was no different. A low moan, one of the few sounds he ever made, escaped his lips. They got him onto his feet and as he could hardly walk, the two brothers held him up and transported directly to the dealer’s private rooms.

“Get him on the bed,” the dealer said, his voice thick with lust.

They walked La Forge over to where the dealer had indicated and made him lie down. He didn’t want to, of course, he tried to get up and get off the bed. He might not be able to speak, he might not be able to see, but he knew well enough by now what was coming. Lore backhanded him across the face, knocking him onto the bed.

“Behave yourself,” said Lore and struck him again.

La Forge cringed into the rumpled linen as Lore grabbed his arms and pinned him to the mattress.

“I can get rough with him, then?” said the dealer, his eyes shining.

“He’s accustomed to some robust handling,” Lore said, straddling the feebly struggling La Forge.

“However,” said Data, “if he is damaged permanently, we will seek restitution.”

“No need for that, I’ll not break bones." The dealer paused, peering at La Forge. "What’s that thing in his neck?”

The silver disc they had implanted in the left side of La Forge’s throat shone in the low light of the apartment. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” said Lore. “It won’t affect his usability.”

The dealer grunted in satisfaction. “The injector’s in the testing shed if you want to run a diagnostic.”

La Forge had finally settled down, blood running from his mouth and nose. Lore got off him and went to stand with his brother.

“May we watch?” asked Data.

“No you fucking can’t,” said the dealer. He shoved them out of the room and slid the door shut in their faces.

The injector was excellent. It only had a few hundred light-years on it and was an almost perfect match for their engine. They ran a few additional tests while they waited for the hour to be up and then they collected La Forge, battered and bleeding, from the dealer’s rooms.

Back on their ship, they repaired the worst of La Forge’s injuries and then bundled him into the sonic shower. Once the blood and semen were washed away, they tied him back to the bed, his struggles as weak and uncoordinated as ever.

“You did well today, brother,” said Lore. “You may take him.”

Data was confused. Acquiring the injector had been their primary goal. “Should we not begin the engine purge, if we are to replace the injector?”

Lore flipped up his fingernail and Data shuddered as a rush of emotion flooded his circuits.

“I will begin the process,” said Lore. “You may have your reward, you have earned it.”

“Thank you, Lore. Thank you.”

His brother left and Data removed his heavy coat and stripped off the thick layers of clothing. His cock was already erect, standing proud of his hairless body.

Geordi lay bound on his back, spread out ready for Data’s pleasure. Anticipation throbbed through his system and he knelt on the bed. Geordi tried to move away, his wrists pulling at the restraints, his head rolling back. He made a sound like a trapped animal as Data lifted his hips and slid into him. Data made a sound himself, an uncontrolled whine escaping his throat as Geordi’s body clenched around him.

Data started to fuck him with long, slow strokes that took him all the way inside. Wrapped in the tight heat of Geordi’s body, Data was lost in a haze of pleasure. Every time Data thrust into him, Geordi gave a short gasp of pain, his breath forced from him by the force of the assault. Geordi was kicking his heels, trying to pull away, but the straps around his ankles held him tight. 

Geordi’s distress and his futile attempts to pull free only fuelled Data’s desire. Feeling his struggles beneath him, so weak and helpless, made Data feel so powerful. This was coupled with the astonishing sensation of being deep inside his body. It was triggering the firing of so many of his positronic synapses in complex unison, it was close to being overwhelming. It was one of the most wonderful things he had ever felt.

Emotion meant power and emotion meant pleasure and when he took Geordi, Data experienced both. This potent symphony of sensations rose up and then climbed higher and higher still until Data was soaring. Geordi was arching of the bed, crying out in agony, as Data spilled his caustic spend inside him.

Slowly, Data came down off his high and lay on top of Geordi, savouring the closeness of his body, the warmth of his skin. He ran his hand down the side of Geordi’s chest. His fingers rippled over his ribs, clearly evident after months of undernourishment. Data was able to feel where they had been broken and then fused, a knot of bone detectable on each of three consecutive rows. An old injury, but one Data remembered with particular fondness. He had caused it himself, by stamping on his chest, all to please his brother, who had urged him to explore his emotion of rage.

But now Geordi was trying to move from beneath him, another feeble attempt at escape. Data did not feel rage now, he felt loose and calm, but as Geordi struggled, he could feel that heat rising in him again. He held him down more firmly, pressed more firmly against him and covered Geordi’s lips with his own. A moan of protest, a miserable, helpless sound, greeted Data’s kiss.

“You will never get away from me, Geordi,” Data whispered, growing hard. “You are mine and I will take you whenever I wish.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“Do Ferengi sweat?” Will asked. “Because you look like you might be under some pressure here.”

Worf was standing over the stammering creature, as DaiMon Lok tried to explain the hold-full of contraband phase pistols the _Enterprise_ had just confiscated.

“It will go better for you,” the Klingon growled, “if you tell us what you know.”

“I don’t know anything about any twin brothers,” the Ferengi gabbled. “Nothing, I don’t know why you think I do. I don’t.”

“How did you know they were twins?” Riker replied, snapping the trap closed.

“We had only mentioned they were brothers,” said Worf and he leaned over the table, looming into Lok’s personal space.

Months had passed with little news, but three weeks ago, Worf had received a tip off from one of his sources. Two brothers, pale-faced twins, had moved into this sector and were trading arms, amongst other things. It was small-scale, but enough to keep a small craft stocked with essential supplies.

Worf had painstakingly tracked the various trades, barters and deals of the pair and it had led them to this Ferengi and his crate-load of illegal weaponry.

Lok was slithered back in his chair, aghast at his mistake. “I heard about them… people talk… I heard it from a… a Rigelian.”

“We just want to know who you put them in touch with,” said Riker. “Which system, how long ago it was. You’re on the hook for a felony smuggling charge. Anything you can do to help yourself, I would think you’d want to take advantage.”

“What advantage, what… what are you putting on the table?”

“We have influence,” said Worf. “The magistrate will listen if we were to petition them on your behalf.”

“But we need your full co-operation on these twin brothers you encountered. We could ask that they only impound your cargo, not your ship,” said Riker. “And we could ask for leniency with any sentence you may serve. But it’s your choice.”

Lok stared up at Worf, who was still looming over him, and then he began to speak.

Riker and Worf strode onto the bridge and Picard nodded in acknowledgement.

“Eltar IV, warp nine,” the Captain instructed. “Engage.”

“Lok sang like a canary,” said Riker. “He took the weapons off their hands in exchange for a consignment of di-colithium ore.”

“Only five days ago, is that correct?” asked Picard.

“So he says. They were pretty desperate for an anti-matter injector, but the spec of their engine is a little unusual and Lok said they were having difficulty sourcing one outside of official channels.”

“That’s why we’ve caught up to them,” Picard mused. “If they need an anti-matter injector, they’ve had no warp drive for…”

“For who knows how long, a few weeks at least by the sound of it.”

“Then let’s hope they are still struggling to find one,” said Picard.

“Amen to that.”

***

Eltar IV was non-aligned but their overwhelmed officials seemed inordinately excited that they might be able to assist with apprehending a pair of fugitives from the Federation.

“They were falling over themselves to help,” said Will, not quite believing what he’d just seen from the effusive Ambassador.

“A refreshing change,” Worf boomed.

“It certainly is, Lieutenant,” said Picard. “Number One, take Mr Worf and a security detail down to the planet. Take advantage of every accommodation they extend. No stone unturned.”

“Aye, sir,” said Will and he and Worf left the bridge.

Their Eltarian liaison was a tall, elegant female who caught Will’s eye immediately.

“I am Commissionaire Delkar Rees. The opportunity to work with the Federation is most welcome. You are warmly greeted.”

“Thank you. I’m Commander William Riker. This is Lieutenant Worf, our Security Chief. I understand you have a few possible targets already picked out?”

“That is correct.” She directed them to a conference table and once they had taken their seats, Rees instigated a holographic display. “There are several dealers and breakers’ yards, however, this one has a particular reputation. Selgar Relmec is a name that has been on our scanners for sometime.”

The graphical display shifted and zoomed in on the map co-ordinates Rees had specified.

“This is the eastern side of the northern continent, where Relmec’s yard is located. In the space of an hour, this location received two separate off-world transporter signals. Both were within the time-frame that you specified.”

“Do you have the frequencies used?” asked Worf.

“We do, I will have our analysis sent to you, Chief.”

“I’d like to move on this Relmec as soon as possible,” said Riker. “Are you amenable to a joint operation?”

“Most certainly. Your assistance in taking down Relmec is warmly welcomed. We have been able to obtain a warrant that without your presence, I am not sure we would have been granted.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon prepping for the raid on the scrapyard. The man lived on site, so once his workers had left, they moved into position. The Eltarian police had their Tactical Support Team transport directly into his apartment and moments later, Rees got confirmation from the TST that it was safe for them to enter.

Relmec was cuffed and sat in a chair in the centre of his living quarters, looking equal parts pissed off and afraid. Rees had her people going through his computer records and she had technicians crawling over his stock.

Rees, gracious as ever, then took a step back and let Riker take the lead on the questioning. Will grabbed a chair, swung his leg over the seat and sat down. He eyeballed the shifting and shifty Relmec.

“These two brothers,” said Riker, showing the dealer Data’s picture. “We know they were here,” he bluffed. “We traced their transporter frequency to this location.”

He saw Relmec flinch at that and then try to cover it with a shrug. “Lots of people come here. It’s a busy place some days.”

“I think you would remember these two. Twin brothers, pale, gold skin, looking to off-load some di-colithium ore in exchange for an anti-matter injector of this specification.”

Will showed him the schematic that the Ferengi had given them and the dealer’s head twitched. Relmec was leaking tells all over the place. Will had scant details, but every one so far had hit home. Every one was boxing the dealer in, bit by bit.

Worf was approaching, grinding his teeth and looking even more furious than usual.

“What is it?” Riker asked.

“Come with me,” the Klingon growled, his tricorder gripped so tightly, Will thought it might crack.

“Would you watch him please?” Will asked one of the TST officers and then he followed Worf into Relmec’s bedroom.

Worf flipped open the tricorder and held it over the centre of the bed. Then he turned it towards Riker so that he could read the output.

Worf confirmed what Will was seeing but didn’t want to believe.

“Commander La Forge’s blood is on these sheets,” Worf said, disgust roiling in his words.

Will felt his stomach drop through the floor, the implications of what Worf was showing him instantly exploding in his head. Then he felt a blinding flash of rage and both he and Worf were marching back to Relmec. They grabbed an arm each, hoisted him off his chair and shoved him against the wall.

Worf held the tricorder in Relmec’s face and growled, “Who else was here?”

The dealer had grown ashen and he petitioned Rees. “They can’t do this! Hey!”

“They are not bound by the same protocols as I,” she said evenly. “They have been granted every latitude.”

“There was a human, like me,” said Riker, tightening his grip, “but dark-skinned, like him,” he said, nodding at Worf.

Relmec was shaking his head. “No, you… you got that wrong.”

“An unconvincing denial,” said Worf. “This shows his DNA, his _blood,_ is on your bed sheets.”

“If you don’t start talking, I’m going to ask all of them to leave,” said Will, his words ice cold with fury. “You’ll be alone, except for Lieutenant Worf and me. And we will take you to pieces if need be.”

Will wasn’t bluffing now, in the moment he said those words, he meant them. He knew Worf wanted to take this miserable specimen apart and by God, Will wanted to do the same.

“Th—they did have di-colithium,” Relmec blubbered. “But… I had enough refined, I didn’t need the ore. And—and then they show me this picture… he had something wrong with his eyes but… uh… it was what I liked.”

“So you let them trade him for the injector,” said Will, his voice pitched low, bile rising in his throat.

“Just an hour… not… I mean he’s not here. They took him back… when I was done.”

“Did you hit him? The blood, did you hit him?”

“They hit him first,” Relmec said, pathetically. “They said he was used to it, that it’d be alright.”

Riker’s eyes glittered, “You thought it’d be alright to beat a blind man while you raped him?”

Will was pressing his forearm into Relmec’s throat and was starting to choke off his air. A blizzard of rage had come down over him, blanking out everything but this white-bright fury. 

“Commander,” Worf warned, and Will felt the heavy grip of his Security Chief’s hand pulling his arm away.

Riker loosened his hold and the sense of his control returning was like falling back into himself. He took a second to get a grip on his anger, ashamed it had slipped his grasp so easily.

He let Worf take over, not quite trusting himself to continue.

“We want to know everything they said. We want the schematics of the injector. We want every detail. Otherwise,” Worf growled, “I will allow Commander Riker to resume his _questioning_.”

***

Riker and Worf returned to the _Enterprise_ , the details they had obtained from Relmec already transmitted to Engineering.

“I’m sorry,” said Will.

“For what?” Worf asked, staring dutifully ahead.

“Losing it down there.”

“Sir. That was not ‘losing it’,” said Worf. “No bones were broken, no blood was spilled. I saw only my commanding officer playing a role, to obtain critical information. That is what my report will reflect.”

“That’s not what happened and you know it.”

“Do I? I am not an empath, I cannot know what was in your mind. That particular subterfuge was one of several approaches we had discussed earlier.”

“That doesn’t excuse it.”

“I have no desire to excuse you.”

“Then what is this?”

“Permission to speak freely,” Worf requested.

“Granted.”

“Put aside your self-pity. Wallowing about your ‘loss of control’ will not find Commander La Forge. Your being suspended from duty will not find Commander La Forge.”

Somewhat chastened but not wholly convinced by Worf’s argument, Will said, “I’ll take that under advisement.” 

The Klingon grabbed his arm just before they entered the turbolift to head to the bridge.

“If this self-indulgence compromises our mission,” Worf growled, “I will… be annoyed.”

Will had, for the moment, set aside his qualms about his actions on the planet as there was a debrief already underway.

The information that Lore and Data had had their new injector for almost a week was disheartening. Lieutenant Wright was able to put a positive spin on that news, however, her report on the schematic already part-way through when Riker and Worf arrived.

“They will have had to purge the anti-matter tanks before they installed the injector,” the engineer was saying. “It’s a fairly routine procedure, but you can’t rush a job like that. Once it’s installed, they would need to refuel and then you can’t start a warp engine from cold. Re-initialising the matter/anti-matter reaction takes time. I don’t think they can have more than two or three days’ head start on us.”

“Their maximum warp is estimated at warp seven,” said Worf. “Ensign Hamid has a search grid established. The _Campbelltown_ is in the neighbouring sector and the _Curie_ is changing course to assist.”

“You should always replace the injectors in pairs,” Wright continued. She had the specs of the replacement anti-matter injector on the screen. “As it’s not an exact match for the matter injector, that is going to introduce a unique asymmetry to the warp field that we should be able to detect.”

“What modifications will the sensors need?” asked Picard.

“Minimal, within an hour,” she replied. “Recommend we send out a series of warp-capable probes, with the same modification, so we can widen the scan area.”

Picard nodded, “Make it so.”

They had been back on the bridge some time, Wright’s modified probes having been dispatched an hour ago.

“Incoming message from the _Campbelltown_ ,” informed Worf from Tactical.

“On screen. Maggie!” Picard greeted his counterpart. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long. We’re entering your sector now. We’ve received the updated warp field data—“

Captain Adebayo was interrupted by her Ops Manager.

“Sir,” they said, “we have a hit on that asymmetric warp signature.”

Picard stood and prowled towards the viewscreen.

“Already? Where?” said Adebayo.

“One-eight-three mark two-seven. They’re on the edges of the Berelle Cluster.”

“Helm,” said Adebayo, “hard about, warp nine. We’ll see you there, Jean-Luc. _Campbelltown_ out.”

“Do we have the signature, Mr Worf?” Picard asked, returning to his seat.

“No, sir, we are too far away. However,” he paused, checking his console, “there is telemetry coming in from one of Lt. Wright’s probes, in that vicinity.”

“Ensign,” said Picard to the conn, checking the reading that Worf had sent to the display on his chair. “Set a course for the Berelle Cluster, two-seven-eight mark one-six. Warp nine. Engage.”

“Mr Worf,” said Riker. “Send a message to the _Curie_ with those co-ordinates. We wouldn’t want them to miss out on the party.”

In the months they had had to plan for this, the three captains had refined their mission options until their ships were almost able to work as a single extended entity. They had run simulations and drills to ensure that, when the time came, the operation would be seamless.

That time was now and Picard took a moment to glance around the bridge. His crew were prepared, focused and determined.

As the stars streaked past, for the first time in a long time, Picard felt that there was hope.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

Data was enjoying watching Geordi, who was on his knees, facing the wall, locked into the feeding collar. His hands were scrabbling at the surface in front of him, searching blindly for something that would relieve his discomfort. Occasionally, his fingers would snag the collar that held him fixed to the wall and he would pull at it in a pitiful attempt to free himself. There was no chance that he could disengage from the device. It would run for its full cycle and only then would it release him. 

That it caused him pain to be fed had not been intentional, it was merely a by-product of the punishment aspect of the disc.

As Geordi belonged to Data, Lore had correctly informed him it was Data’s responsibility to look after his needs, to clean and feed and toilet him. After a short time of this menial, dirty work, Data had grown irritated. Utilising the information they had on Borg regeneration protocols, Data realised a far more efficient method was possible, one that would not involve him having to clean up biological mess several times per day. And so he had designed the disc and the access collar to deliver nutrients whilst also filtering waste products. 

Lore had been impressed, but had offered his own input, linking the disc not only to Geordi’s bloodstream but also to his nervous system. Data did not think this punishment aspect was necessary, given the nature of Geordi’s disablements and the ease with which they could overpower him. However, watching Geordi collapse in agony when Lore first discharged the control device, Data could not deny it was a potent feeling to watch him convulse at their feet. To know they had this complete hold over him was a wonderful thing.

And so, whenever he was locked into the collar and fed, there was some unpleasant feedback into his nervous system. Data liked to watch the full cycle. It took two hours, forty seven minutes and nine seconds to filter his whole blood volume and then infuse the nutrient mix, after which, Geordi would not need to be fed again for three days.

The collar unlocked and Geordi pulled back, scrambling away from the wall, one hand blindly reaching out into the air before him. Data grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He made that weak, moaning sound as Data forced him back onto the bed and secured him. Once complete, Data joined Lore, who was at the conn.

“Geordi is fed and back in place,” Data reported, standing behind his brother as he piloted the shuttle.

“That’s just _great_ ,” Lore said, a sarcastic edge in his voice.

“Is something wrong?”

“There is an uptick in subspace radio chatter,” said Lore. “I can’t crack the encryption, but I think it’s Federation. More specifically, I think it’s Starfleet.”

“That is concerning,” said Data. “Do you want me to analyse the encrypted files?”

“No,” said Lore. “I want you to tap dance on the roof. Of course I want you to analyse the encrypted files. For crying out loud…”

“My apologies,” said Data. “I will get to work immediately.”

“If you spent less time playing with your _pet_ —” Lore stabbed away at the controls, clearly furious.

“I can see that this development has upset you, brother. It is disturbing. I will endeavour to complete my analysis with alacrity.”

“Yip-dee-doo,” Lore mocked.

There was little Data could say when his brother fell into such foul moods, so he retreated to the aft station and began his subspace analysis. He completed it a short time later.

“I can confirm the chatter is Starfleet. However, I have not been able to break the encryption. It is of the highest level and we do not possess the computing power to begin a brute force attack on the coding, which is—”

“I get it, ok, Data. I get it.”

“Are you detecting any Starfleet vessels within sensor range?” Data asked.

“No, but I want you to see if you can’t boost the gain.”

Data nodded and began his modifications. By narrowing the beam, he would be able to extend the reach. That way, they could build up a mosaic of readings that would give them a few more million kilometres of range. When he was done, Data began to display the findings on the viewscreen in front of Lore.

Their scout ship was shown as a small yellow dart. As each segment of deep scan was completed, it would overlay on the display, slowly building up a picture of the sphere of space around them. A large blue circle appeared. A Federation starship. And it was surrounded by a cluster of smaller blue discs, spread out around it.

“Fuck,” said Lore and he punched in co-ordinates to take them 180o away from that vessel.

As the scout ship spun and its sensors swept the space ahead of them, the next sector was mapped onto the screen. Another large, blue disc with its own compliment of smaller dots appeared.

“Shit, fuck,” said Lore and came about to zero-nine-zero mark two-seven-zero.

Data was now standing behind his brother, concern carved onto his face. As their ship angled downwards, the sensors showed yet another Federation ship had been waiting beneath them, surrounded by its cluster of blue dots.

“Fuck me backwards,” Lore cursed, slamming the engines into reverse and changing direction yet again.

Another sector scan completed and revealed yet another ship, this time red on their display with, again, a rash of smaller dots surrounding it.

“Vulcans… _fucking_ Vulcans now!”

“We appear to be surrounded,” Data observed, a strange yawing sensation opening up in the centre of his body.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Lore instigated a violent manoeuvre, causing the computer to issue a standard warning and Data to stagger. The next sector appeared clear and Data saw Lore was just about to punch to warp seven, when three white dots emerged on the display, right in their path.

“I believe they are Andorian Cruisers,” Data said, fear modulating his vocal output.

“Is the whole fucking _galaxy_ out here?” Lore cried, dithering at the controls as his options to flee evaporated.

Data leaned over and tapped in their last possible option. Surrounded by a shell of advancing starships and shuttle craft, he feared this was either a trap - that they were supposed to use this one last avenue - or that once again, their route would be closed off.

It was the latter. Two large, green triangles appeared on their sensor display.

“Klingon Birds of Prey,” Lore’s voice intoned. “We’re fucked.”

***

The scout ship was trapped, it may have been fast but it was no match for three starships and their dispersed complement of shuttle craft. With the Klingons, Vulcans and Andorians closing the gaps, Lore had nowhere left to go.

The _Campbelltown_ were on point and had caught them in a tractor beam. The _Curie_ had joined them a short time later and the small ship was now held fast between the two. As the _Enterprise_ entered the fray and they came within weapons range, Picard gave the order.

“Fire modified pulsed EM phasers.”

“Aye, sir,” said Barnaby, standing in for Worf at Tactical.

The beam was still that orange-gold, but darker waves were visible flooding down the beam. When it hit the shields of the scout ship, the beam dispersed, causing an intense flickering in a shell around the craft. Unlike normal phaser fire, this beam was continuous over minutes; a focused, single beam of intense modulating energy.

“Open a channel to the scout ship,” Picard ordered.

“Channel open,” Barnaby confirmed.

“ _Enterprise_ to scout ship.”

The viewscreen flickered into life, interference strobing the image.

“Picard! You’ve found us!” Lore exclaimed. Seated at the conn with a wild look in his eye, he was desperately jabbing away at his controls. “Don’t know how you did it. Nope, don’t know how in the hell you did it!”

“Data,” the Captain said, ignoring Lore’s yammering. “Data, where’s Geordi?”

“Geordi is not your concern,” Data grimaced. He was standing at the rear console, no doubt trying to bolster their shields.

There was a huge burst of static and the image and the comms were lost.

“Their shields are overloading… They have collapsed,” informed Barnaby. “There is a human life sign but I am unable to get a lock.”

“Maintain fire,” instructed Picard, the EM pulse required to overload more than just the shields. 

That they were unable to get a lock was as expected. The EM pulse had been designed to disrupt the positronic nets of Lore and Data, but there was an unavoidable, short-lived interaction with the tractor beam artefacts. Within the hull of the scout ship certain resonances built up, preventing a transporter lock. Hence the shuttle craft _Gamow,_ its boarding party of Riker, Worf, Transporter Chief Lyle and their consignment of pattern enhancers.

“That should have done it,” Barnaby said.

“Cease fire,” Picard ordered and the beam was discontinued. “Picard to the _Gamow.”_

“ _Gamow_ here,” said Riker.

“They’re all yours, Will. Bring them home.” 

“Aye, sir. _Gamow_ out.”

The _Campbelltown_ and the _Curie_ maintained the tractor lock as the _Gamow_ broke formation and flew out towards the scout ship.

“We are being hailed, the _Krevelkin_ and the _Telmar,”_ said Barnaby.

“Both on screen.”

“Aye, sir.”

The screen split to show one of the Klingon captains and the Andorian fleet leader.

“I would like to add my personal thanks to those of Starfleet,” said Picard. “Your participation was instrumental.”

“Any friend of the Borg is an enemy of Andoria.”

“ _Qapla’_ Picard. The High Council, likewise, are honoured to assist in this matter.”

The Klingons cut their transmission and their ships rippled and vanished from view.

“You seem to have this under control,” the Andorian said, their antennae pitching forward in anticipation.

“Of course. Again, you have my gratitude for your prompt response to my request.”

“I may call on you one day,” assured the Andorian. “ _Telmar_ out.”

The viewscreen returned to the image of the _Gamow_ heading for the scout ship.

“Send a message to the _T’nel_ , I thank the Vulcan High Command for their assistance. Your service honours us.”

“Done, sir,” said Barnaby.

Picard pulled down his tunic and was now completely focused on the shuttle, now just a few kilometres from the scout ship and on its final approach.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

After docking and forcing entry, Riker and Worf, phasers drawn, entered the main cabin of the small craft. Lore was slumped over the conn, Data was flat on his back in the middle of the floor.

“They are both unconscious,” Worf reported back to the _Enterprise_. 

Lyle was setting up the four enhancers around Data, twisting the top of each in turn, initialising the pattern sequencing boosters. Worf dragged Lore to join his brother on the floor and a nod from Lyle indicated they were ready to transport.

“Worf to _Enterprise_. Beam them directly to the brig. Separate cells.”

As the androids shimmered and disappeared, he and Riker moved swiftly through the rest of the small ship, their tricorders directing them to the aft sleeping quarters.

Riker opened the door, his anger barely controlled inside him. All of that collapsed into horror when he saw what was on the other side.

“Geordi!” he cried, holstering his phaser as he moved swiftly to his friend’s aid.

Tied to the bed, his wrists and ankles bound to the four corners of the frame, a naked, VISOR-less Geordi flinched at the sound of Riker’s voice. He was rail-thin and covered in bruises. His left VISOR input was dark, the right flashed only intermittently. His lips were cracked and crusted with blood and there was a large silver disc, some kind of implant, embedded in the left side of his throat.

“It’s Will, Geordi,” said Riker, as he and Worf began to untie him.

There was no indication Geordi had understood and he cringed away when he felt their hands upon him, a reedy moan escaping his lips.

“You’re safe now, the _Enterprise_ is here.”

Riker got Geordi’s right hand free and gently moved his arm down. He laid it across Geordi’s chest and held his hand, while Worf finished untying him. 

“Worf is here too. You’re safe now, you’re safe.”

Now he was freed, Geordi brought his legs awkwardly together and he curled onto his side, his back to Worf. As he did so, Riker heard the Klingon swear explosively.

Will leaned across to see what had caused Worf’s outburst. Geordi’s back, buttocks and thighs were a mess of sores and he was covered in the marks of a severe beating. The two officers exchanged a long, appalled gaze over their stricken comrade.

“Sick _fucking_ bastards,” Will said under his breath.

“They are without honour,” Worf growled and he took the sheet that Geordi lay on and wrapped it around his beaten body.

“We’re going to get you to Sickbay,” said Will. “Geordi?”

His eyelids fluttered and he moved his head away from Riker’s voice, cowering into the mattress.

“Geordi, do you understand? We’re going to take care of you.”

Worf gathered Geordi into his arms, the huge Klingon easily lifting the emaciated man off the bed. Will watched him carry La Forge back to the main cabin and to the pattern enhancers. And then Will’s hand went to his mouth because he felt like he might throw up. 

“Two to beam directly to Sickbay,” he heard Worf order.

Mission accomplished, Riker released the clamp on his emotions. Anger erupted as did grief and rage and relief that they had finally found him and a festering, boiling fury that it had taken them so long whilst he had been suffering so profoundly.

Riker punched the wall. It hurt, but not enough, so he punched it again and again until he felt something crack. Breathing hard, Riker straightened his tunic, smoothed his beard and got back to the task in hand: gathering evidence of Geordi’s months of captivity.

Now the small scout ship was secured, he had Worf beam back over with his forensic security team. After several hours, they had amassed all the evidence they could, but there was one thing that Riker was puzzling over and he and Worf were running some more detailed scans. 

There was some sort of device fixed to the wall of the room where Geordi was held. It was a circular band of silver metal and hinged to open in two halves. On the inside left was a protruding cluster of nodes and diodes. The whole thing was attached to the wall on a short arm, perhaps ten centimetres long. There was a control panel, but it was dark and unresponsive. The EM pulse had damaged some of the scout ship’s systems and this appeared to be one of them. 

Riker had knelt down in front of it and it came to about chest height on him. As it dawned on him what this could be, he closed his eyes for a second. If forced to kneel, it was just the right height for it to fasten around Geordi’s neck. Facing the wall, on his knees, with this _thing_ locked around his throat, the cluster of diodes would line up perfectly with the metal disc that was embedded in Geordi’s neck. Riker could imagine how they would slot together as the collar was fastened tight. What it was for, why they had done this, Will had no idea.

Worf was tapping at his tricorder. “There seems to be Borg and Andorian technology involved.”

“We’re getting nowhere with this. Let’s get the ship into a shuttle bay and Engineering can crawl all over it.”

“Aye, sir.”

***

Beverly’s joy at Geordi’s rescue was dashed almost immediately. The moment she saw the dreadful condition he was in, her relief was overwhelmed with anger and a fierce protectiveness.

Fighting those feelings, she fell back on her years’ of medical practice, allowing for her professional detachment to take over when faced with the most appalling of situations.

Geordi was flailing his arms and kicking out with his feet in a desperate attempt to get off the biobed. A sound that to Beverly was indicative of pure fear was emanating from Geordi’s throat. It was a long, plaintive moan that chilled her soul.

“Geordi,” she said softly, holding his shoulder to the bed. “Geordi, it’s Beverly, you’re on the _Enterprise_. You’re safe now.”

She took his hand and was able to wrest his arm downwards with little effort. He was horribly underweight and very weak, but he was still in danger of throwing himself onto the floor. Beverly held his hand, trying to get him to listen to her and settle down. But his agitation wasn’t soothed by her gentle words or by what would usually have been a calming touch; in fact they only seemed to increase his distress.

“Ten milligrams of colpromazol,” Crusher ordered, now having to hold Geordi down with the help of Nurse Hector Ramerez.

Alyssa brought the hypospray and Beverly had her administer the dose to the right side of Geordi’s neck, avoiding whatever the hell that silver disc was on the left. After a moment, he stopped fighting her and began to relax, and Dr Crusher finally felt able to release her hold, nodding to Ramerez that he should do the same.

Geordi was still awake, his empty eyes were open and staring blankly ahead of him while his head rolled on the pillow and finally lolled over onto his right shoulder. His lips and throat were working, but no sound was being made.

Now that he was still, Beverly could begin her assessment proper.

Forty minutes later, Dr Crusher was completing her initial examination. Sickened by her findings, she continued to give calm, concise instructions to her staff, masking as best she could her disgust at the devastating brain damage and systematic abuse he had suffered.

They had found that both wrists had been broken on several separate occasions, he had also had broken ribs and a fractured skull at some point in the last eight months. All had been healed with what Beverly considered perfunctory, sub-battlefield medicine. There were dreadful internal injuries that spoke to sustained sexual abuse. He was severely underweight and had clearly been starved over a protracted period of time. A vile tapestry covered his skin; multiple lacerations and abrasions and contusions marred his body, alongside which a dozen pressure sores had eroded into his tissues. A picture of abject suffering and misery had unfolded in less than an hour and Beverly was enraged.

At least there had been something they could do to ease his pain and discomfort, and Beverly had gotten Alyssa and Hector to start those treatments immediately.

The consequences of the neurological experiment he’d been subjected to were catastrophic. His VISOR implants no longer functioned as optic nerves, having been co-opted into the artificial nanofibre matrix and repurposed. There was a pervasive weakness down his right side, possibly as a result of a bleed on his brain.

He had made sounds, but had not spoken any words, so Beverly next ran a Maitland Series. This consisted of playing the subject set phrases in three languages whilst monitoring their brain activity for signs of verbal processing. With the Universal Translator turned off, Beverly presented Geordi with English, Klingon and Praxan – Praxan being a simulated language for the purposes of the test.

In an unaffected patient, the brainwave patterns should have shown specific processing patterns for English, Geordi’s first language. It should have shown recognition but not understanding of Klingon and lastly, it should have shown complete incomprehension at the mock Praxan phrases.

Geordi’s brainwaves showed the same level of incomprehension for all three languages as would have been expected for Praxan alone. Words and phrases he had heard his whole life now meant nothing to him. Even his own name did not register.

His motor control was poor and he was unable to walk without support. When he did, his gait was highly irregular, with that right-sided weakness limiting him even further.

They continued throughout the day, testing all of Geordi’s senses and reflexes, determining the extent of the injury and extrapolating what that would mean for him in reality.

Having completed her tests, Beverly sat next to Geordi’s bed, at a loss as to how to even begin to treat this level of brain damage. The input at his right temple flickered sporadically, an external indication of his catastrophic impairments.

She watched Geordi blink slowly, his blank, white gaze staring sightlessly ahead, and Beverly felt like weeping. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

Worf had just completed the supervision of Lore’s dismantling. He was now stood in front of Data’s cell, fighting feelings of rage and disgust as his superior officer screamed and wailed.

“Commander!” Worf bellowed over the shrieking.

The high pitched sounds did not stop, however Data did turn to look directly at him, and Worf could see the extreme emotion that was contorting the android’s face. He was a parody of grief, his eyes were unblinking and spilling yellow fluid, his mouth was wide open and turned down, the maddening sounds flowing relentlessly as his hands clawed at his clothes.

Data did not speak, he just continued with this sickening, screeching display.

“You will answer my questions!” Worf barked.

Data started to bang his head on the wall, all the while emitting that piercing scream.

The main doors opened and the Captain and Commander Riker entered. They both winced as the horrendous noise attacked their eardrums. Worf straightened to attention. 

“Mr Worf,” said the Captain, over the cacophony. “Your report.”

“Lore is incapacitated in cell one. When Data… awoke, _this_ began almost immediately.”

“Has he said anything?” Riker asked.

“No, sir, the only thing he has said is ‘Lore’ in a desperate manner. He has ignored all questioning.”

“I want you to see if the two of you are able to get through to him,” said the Captain. “Try any and all methods, we have to try to reach him. Lt. Wright is going to continue with the kedion pulses, so that could have an effect at any time.”

“Aye, sir,” said Worf and he watched his Captain take a last, long look at the scene in front of him before he returned to the bridge.

“Any ideas?” Riker asked, raising his voice against the sound.

“He has only expressed interest in one thing, Lore. We should try to engage him on that subject.”

Riker nodded and addressed their distraught prisoner. “Lore is in the cell, just along the way.”

Data turned his distorted face towards them. “You lie! I cannot feel his presence!” Then the shrieking resumed.

“He’s right there. But he’s affected you Data, damaged you. We had to put a stop to that.”

Data just wailed in response and resumed head-butting the wall.

“We must know,” Worf demanded. “What did he do to your programme?”

“Fixed me. He fixed me. He fixed me. He fixed me.”

“This is fixed?” Riker said, incredulous.

“I have to have what he gives me.”

“What is that?” Worf asked.

“How could you know? Even if I told you, you would never know what it meant.”

“Try me,” Worf said, drily.

Data dragged his fingernails down his face. “Love.”

Worf and Riker turned to each other, not believing what they had just heard.

“What Lore did to you wasn’t love,” said Riker.

Data screeched at them, making them both recoil. “I told you, you would not understand. Everything my brother did was because he loved me.”

“He fed you lies and half-truths,” Worf replied, “because you are the one who does not understand what love is.”

Data could say nothing to that, so he resumed his wailing.

This was to be a long and difficult interrogation, so both Worf and Riker settled in for the duration.

***

“The implant in Geordi’s neck,” said Beverly. “It’s a variation on a Borg regeneration port.”

Picard bristled. “To what end? We’re they trying to assimilate him?”

“No. Geordi’s kidneys have been shut down, his digestive system too. This is how they fed and toileted him.”

“Through the implant?”

“It’s directly integrated into his bloodstream. Nutrients go in, waste is filtered out. It’s very… efficient,” Beverly said coldly. “If you want to keep someone alive on starvation rations, that is.”

“Android logic,” said Picard, almost to himself. 

“That’s not all. It’s also tied into his nervous system. There are connections that link it directly to the trigeminal nerve in the left side of his head.”

“What’s the significance?”

“Damage or stimulation of the trigeminal nerve produces agonising pain. This,” Beverly said, indicating the disc, “could also be used as a disciplinary device.”

Picard was appalled. “But they would have no cause, surely?”

Geordi’s condition meant he would have been unable to put up any kind of resistance, particularly against Data and Lore.

Beverly was shaking her head, looking down at Geordi. “I can only hope they never used it.”

“Can it be safely removed?”

“It can, we’re prepping him for surgery later today.”

“And his other injuries?”

“Healing well, all things considered. The most serious were the internal injuries. There have been repeated and protracted sexual assaults, but physically he will recover.”

Picard brushed the tips of his fingers across his brow several times, allowing himself a few seconds to compose his thoughts. 

“Mentally, Doctor, how is he? Deanna… felt him slip away when we were on the planet.”

Beverly looked away for a moment, struggling to keep her emotions in check. Then she straightened and tapped at the wall display. A comparison of Geordi’s brain, scanned before and after his ordeal, were now on the screen in front of them. Even to a non-medical eye, the differences were stark and obvious.

“His neocortex has been almost entirely destroyed,” Crusher explained.

Beverly was referring to the nanofibre implants that had been drilled into Geordi’s skull. Jean-Luc could see the thin trail of fibres snaking over the surface of Geordi’s damaged brain and how they had hooked into and hijacked the existing wiring of his VISOR implants.

“Is there anything you can do for him?”

“There is a huge amount of damage.” Beverly shook her head, unsure. “Perhaps, in time, with rehabilitation and therapy, he may be able to feed himself.”

Jean-Luc looked at Beverly, shocked by the stark nature of her reply. “Is that all?”

“He’s conscious, he can feel heat and cold, he can taste sweet and sour, he can cry. But he has no language comprehension, he has no sight, he’s going to be doubly incontinent.”

Picard was truly taken aback.

She continued with her grim diagnosis. “There have been cases of severe localised damage being treated, but never one with such a deliberate eradication of almost the whole cortex. And none so long after the original injury. But I’ve sent his case notes to everyone I can think of.”

“I know you’re doing all you can,” he said, trying to reassure her, despite the bleak outlook.

“When is Deanna back? I could really use her input.”

“Two to three days, she’s managed to get the _Intrepid_ to Starbase 234, then the _Neried_ is going to rendezvous with us at Caloris Prime.”

Beverly nodded. She looked exhausted and emotional and angry. Very much like Picard himself felt.

“How’s Data?” she asked stiffly.

Jean-Luc met Beverly’s eyes and sighed deeply. “Shrieking and raging,” was all that he could find to say.

To lose either of them would have been incredibly difficult. The loss of Data and La Forge simultaneously had been profound. Their individual strengths were many, but their connection, their shorthand and their teamwork had saved the _Enterprise_ on more occasions than Picard cared to count. 

Worf had refused the promotion to Ops, choosing to remain as Security Chief until he could bring Data and Lore to justice and Geordi home. Lieutenant Yelena Wright had accepted promotion only on the basis that her new title was Acting Chief Engineer, symbolically holding open Geordi’s position whilst his status was officially ‘Missing in Action’. Their loyalty and their determination as Starfleet officers were never in doubt, but it was always humbling when confronted with it and Picard had found himself deeply moved.

That the ship was in a kind of mourning for them was something Picard felt keenly. The nature of their loss, in circumstances so barbaric and cruel and open-ended, only compounded the turmoil. Deanna had been astonishing, a rock for the whole crew and for himself. He had eventually enforced this shore-leave on her, insisting she go back to Betazed. Her own trauma, at sensing the abuse Geordi suffered and his terror as his mind failed, had been attended to but her home world had specialists that the _Enterprise_ did not. 

Picard was now approaching the detention cells. Lore was a lost cause and Picard had ordered he be deactivated before the effects of the EM pulse wore off. He was in pieces in the first cell, held behind the activated force field because, well, Picard’s two experts on android physiology were no longer available to him. He could not be sure Lore hadn’t defended himself, modified himself somehow, against his most obvious vulnerability. Even dismantled, Picard was concerned he could still be incredibly dangerous.

Cell two was empty. Data was being held in three. Picard entered and Worf and Riker both stood.

He could hear Data was crying. As he got closer to the aperture of the cell, he could see his Second Officer was curled up on the floor, tucked into the corner, weeping. Picard felt a flurry of emotions, anger, frustration, pity, grief.

“Is there anything to report, Number One?” he asked, staring at the android.

“Very little of substance,” Will replied. “He is speaking now, at least. And he’s desperate to have the connection to Lore restored.”

“We have made it abundantly clear that is not going to happen,” Worf growled.

“How did he react to that information?”

“He screeched like he was in pain,” Worf said. “And yelled that we must allow it.”

Picard inhaled deeply through his nose. “Gentlemen, you have been here several hours. Get something to eat, have a break. I’d like to have some time alone with Mr Data.”

Riker and Worf acknowledged his order and left.

Picard picked up one of the chairs and moved it to a more central position. He sat down, regarding the sobbing android, at something of a loss as to how to proceed.

“Where is Lore?” Data wailed. “I need my brother.”

“Your brother is indisposed.”

“I am in pain, Captain, please.”

“You don’t have any physical injuries.”

“How would you know?” Data suddenly snarled.

“What you are experiencing is emotional distress.”

“Then I am in distress,” he said, shifting to self-pitying in a heartbeat. “Why will you not help me?”

“We are trying, Mr Data. But we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“Choke on your morals if you must, but how dare you make me suffer for them? Who do you think you are, doing this to me?”

“I think I am your commanding officer and, I hope, your friend.”

Data made a sound that fell somewhere between laughter and a cry of derision. “I do not have any friends. I have a brother. Please,” Data said, switching seamlessly now to a pleading, plaintive tone. “Please, why are you denying my wishes? He is my only family. All I have in the whole universe. I am so alone, I am afraid. Please, please, let me be with my brother.”

“Your thoughts should be for Geordi, not for yourself or Lore.”

Data’s head shot up. “Geordi! He is mine. Mine! I want him back. Lore gave him to me. He was my reward.”

“Geordi is in Sickbay.”

“Give him BACK!” Data bellowed, launching himself at the force field. It sparked into life, repelling his advance. Data howled and, enraged, he started to punch at the aperture, causing effervescent showers of energy to thrum into life.

Picard watched this display of temper, this fit of pique, with profound sadness. Data, so calm, measured and mild-mannered, had been transformed into a shrieking psychopath by his brother’s malign influence. Severed from that carrier wave and given repeated kedion pulse treatments, theory said that his ethical programming should have rebooted. It would seem, however, that so many months spent in Lore’s corrosive company had done more than just block the programme. 

Data howled again. “I want my gift! He was my brother’s gift to me and I want him now!”

“Geordi was never Lore’s to give.”

“He was Lore’s to take,” Data spat, his head dropping down, his arms falling by his side.

Suddenly, he scurried to the back of the cell and sank to the floor by the base of the bed.

“He was mine to have,” the android said, his voice pitched low. Data then pushed his hand down the front of his pants and started to masturbate. “Oh, Captain, Geordi was so tight. Do you know how hard that made me fuck him?”

Sickened, Picard was on his feet, scraping back the chair. He turned away from Data and headed directly for the exit. 

“I fucked him until he screamed!” Data yelled after him. “Until he screamed for me to stop!”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters will be posted today, 13 & 14.
> 
> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

Deanna beamed over from the _Neried_ and as she materialised, she saw Will was waiting to greet her in the Transporter Room.

Glad. He was glad that she was here. Relieved she was here, but he was angry, enraged even and exhausted.

“How was Betazed?” he asked as she stepped down from the platform.

“It was what I needed, but I can’t believe this all happened while I was gone.”

“We were going to swing by and pick you up, but it was a little out of our way.”

She smiled but she knew that things were not good and he was trying his best to mask over his feelings. For her sake, as much as anyone’s.

“Walk you to your quarters?” he offered and she nodded her agreement.

He filled her in on what had been happening, over and above that which was in the official records, but he was still holding back. She wasn’t going to push him, he wasn’t ready and for the moment she had other priorities.

“I’ll stop by, after my shift,” said Will.

He kissed the top of her head and then returned to the bridge. Deanna stood in the corridor outside her quarters and then started off, back towards the turbolift.

“Deck Twelve,” she directed.

She had received excellent support, both on the _Enterprise_ and on Betazed, but she felt deep apprehension as she approached Sickbay.

As Beverly came from around her desk to give her a hug, Deanna was already reaching out for Geordi’s mind, but finding nothing that she recognised.

“I’m glad to have you back,” Beverly said and she began to describe her findings and the latest on Geordi’s condition.

She was taking in all that Beverly was saying, but a part of Deanna didn’t need to hear any of this, as she was already sure. It was a part of her that had known since that dreadful, heart-wrenching moment on the planet. She had done something down there that no empath should. So that he wouldn’t suffer alone, so that he wouldn’t be alone in his final moments, Deanna had left her abilities wide open to Geordi’s anguish. To stand as witness to his suffering was her way of giving testament and it had damaged her beyond her ability to admit.

It looked like Geordi, lying in the bed, but she sensed nothing of the person he had once been. All she felt from the patient in the bed was fear and confusion and the memory of pain. They were raw, immediate emotions, like those of a very young child. Uncomplicated and without nuance, they struck Deanna’s psyche with a force that she had thought she was prepared for but was not. The tightness she felt in her chest, the tremor that she now felt in her hands, the tears stinging her eyes, all gave lie to that preparedness.

For several hours, she sat with this person who had once been Geordi, talking to him, gently taking and then holding his hand. There was little change in his emotional state. The thrum of fear from him was constant, occasionally spiking into agitation and distress at an unexpected voice or other sound. It could then only be alleviated by sedating him.

After a while, Deanna looked up, feeling that Beverly wanted to speak with her. She reluctantly left Geordi’s side and joined Beverly in her office.

“All I feel from him is fear and confusion.”

Crusher nodded. “His cortisol levels are stubbornly high.”

“He is locked into a cycle, of fear of abuse. It’s all he has known.”

“Is there any indication that he knows he is safe now, anything at all?”

“No. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know who he is. He doesn’t understand that he is safe.”

Beverly closed her eyes. Deanna knew what she was telling her was fitting all too well with her own results. She had been hoping that Deanna would be able to sense something more from him, that she would be able to point her to some spark of Geordi that might still remain, but Deanna had just dashed those hopes.

“Thank you, for seeing him so quickly,” Beverly said. “But you look like you need to rest. Have you had much sleep in the last couple of days?”

“Not so much.”

Since she had heard about Geordi’s rescue, Deanna had gotten precisely zero sleep. A flurry of shuttles, starships and transport vessels had been hastily arranged to get her back to the _Enterprise_ as soon as possible. It had left little time for rest.

“You’re not back on duty officially until tomorrow at 0800,” Beverly said. “Get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

Deanna nodded and smiled weakly. After squeezing Beverly’s hand by way of a goodbye, Troi made her way back to her quarters and waited for Will.

She knew he was on his way before he’d even left the bridge, the trill of her door chime a formality only.

“Come in,” she said and he stepped into her darkened room.

“What do you think?” asked Will, standing close and looking down at her.

Her face crumpled and she started to sob uncontrollably.

“Hey, hey, come here,” said Will and he held her tight whilst she wept, deep, bitter, heartbroken tears, because although he had been rescued, Geordi wasn’t here. 

***

Beverly was adamant. “We would be performing a medical procedure against the patient’s will.”

“There are times," Picard countered, "when decisions must be made for those who cannot make them for themselves. Could the argument be made that Data is not competent?”

Dr Crusher shook her head. “He’s got an IQ off the human scale and re—”

“He’s a psychopath,” Will interrupted. “With that knocked-off chip in his head and with what Lore has exposed him to, he is a psychopath.”

Beverly tilted her head as if to say, ‘ _nice try, but no_ ’.

“Psychopaths aren’t insane,” she said. “They are fully cognisant of their actions.”

“Then we are to leave him like this?” Worf asked.

“I’m not saying we lock the door and throw away the key,” Dr Crusher said. “I’m saying we can’t dig around in his head without his permission.”

“You have been very quiet, Counselor," said Picard. "What are your thoughts? You’ve spent a few hours with him now.”

“He’s terrified. He’s enraged, embittered, but mainly terrified. All of his emotions were controlled by Lore. Now he has his own chip but he no longer has that stabilising influence—”

Worf snorted in derision.

“Regardless of how it appeared,” Deanna continued, undeterred, “Lore was supporting him, in his own way, by controlling and rationing his emotional exposure. Without Lore to mediate, Data has an unregulated torrent of emotion to deal with. And he doesn’t know how.”

“Do you think there is any hope, as he learns to mitigate his own emotions, he might…” Picard trailed off, not sure what kind of ‘hope’ he was even referring to. The clutching at straws type, perhaps.

“Data without his ethical programme is Lore Mark II,” Will said. “I feel sick saying that, but it’s true.”

“Is there no other way to check if that programme is damaged?” Worf asked, grinding his teeth.

Acting Chief Engineer Wright shook her head. “I have to access the sub-processor via his left temporal access port.” There were some blank looks around the table. “I have to take the side of his head off and plug him into the main computer.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Riker sighed. “Unless he grants us permission, it’s stalemate.”

Picard had been listening to all of his senior staff and ruminating. “Perhaps, but as Dr Crusher has said, we won’t throw away the key. We are going to continue to work with him, confront him with what he has done. As Lore’s influence wanes, he will be crying out for guidance. Can we replace Lore’s with our own?”

Both Deanna and Beverly nodded, not necessarily agreeing that it would work, but acknowledging that the possibility was there. Wright, on the other hand, looked sceptical, as did Riker and Worf.

“We have to try,” said Crusher. “If we can reach him in some way, we have to try.”

***

Later that evening, Lieutenant Wright was sat next to a sedated Geordi, reading from a PADD. “ ‘ _The Journal of Warp Field Mechanics, Volume 2,343’_ ,” she quoted.

“Lieutenant,” Riker greeted her, “a Geordi bedtime story?”

“Yes, sir.” She looked up at him with immense sadness. “Dr Crusher said talking to him, about familiar subjects… he can’t understand but that it might help, somehow.”

Riker nodded. “What are you reading him?” Wright turned the PADD towards him and Riker recited, “‘ _On the Effects of a 2-Dimensional Relativistic Slip-stream on Asymmetrical Peristaltic Field Manipulation’_. That sounds… fascinating,” he said with an arch of his eyebrows. 

“Shhh,” said Wright. “You’ll upset the author.”

She scrolled down past the header and then Riker could see that the article had been written by one Lt. Cmdr. Geordi La Forge.

“Geordi’s paper?” he said softly.

“Just got published this month,” Lt. Wright said. “It’s been stuck in peer-review hell for, I don’t know, the last year, eighteen months?”

“I didn’t know he’d submitted a paper. I didn’t think that was his thing.”

“I kind of twisted his arm.” Wright smiled faintly. “So I’d let him bend my ear on how long it was taking. I’d had a couple of papers rejected in my time and we’d whine about the unfairness of it all.”

“I never knew anyone who could out-whinge an engineer,” Riker teased. And then he said quietly to his friend, “Good for you, Geordi.

“Getting published,” Riker said to Wright, “that’s a pretty big deal.”

“In this Journal, it’s a huge deal,” she agreed. “Especially as they don’t like letting us grubby engineers play in their sandbox. I said I’d stand him a drink in Ten Forward when it got published.” She looked up at Riker, tears in her eyes and fury on her face. “I had Guinan keep a bottle of real Champagne behind the bar, as a surprise. But now he’s never going to get to drink it.”

A tear spilled down her cheek and she angrily swiped it away.

“Grief and anger,” Riker said, “channel them, use them, but… don’t let them make you bitter.”

She looked at him, eyes shining. “How are you getting on with that?”

It was a sincere question, her gaze searching for reassurance from him. He closed his eyes briefly, the image of Geordi tied to that bed was burned into his memory, the shock of it still able to turn his stomach.

“It’s a process,” he said, unable to offer her any easy solutions.

Wright nodded. “Yes, sir, it is that.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters will be posted today, 13 & 14.
> 
> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“D-Doctor?”

Beverly jumped as, if from nowhere, Lieutenant Barclay was standing in front of her desk.

“Reg! You startled me.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry, sorry. I… you seemed busy. I… I didn’t want to disturb you, but I—”

Crusher waited to see what Reg wanted, but he just stood there, holding a PADD like it was some sort of shield and looking, as ever, as if he’d rather be anywhere but where he was.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, gently leading him into the reason for his visit.

“Oh… it’s… I’ve… It’s so terrible.” His halting delivery faltered completely as he glanced over his right shoulder, towards the main array of beds.

“Are you sick?”

“Me? No! I’m… fine.”

Apart from a somewhat elevated level of anxiety, even for Reg, Beverly was inclined to believe him.

“So, you’ve come to see me because…?”

Reg shook his head. “It’s just awful. We’ve… Commander La Forge…”

Beverly smiled at him, the reason for his visit and his unease now clear.

“Sit down,” she said, softly. “Please.”

He took the offered seat and it then took him a little time to gather his thoughts enough to speak. Beverly let him have that time.

“I’ve been, I mean, I volunteered, to pack up Commander La Forge’s things. His medical discharge…” He looked at Beverly and she thought he was trying to hold back tears. “So… h-h-his quarters can be reassigned.” 

“I know. I know how hard that is.”

“And, well, part of that is deleting any locally saved data. From the r-replicator and the access computer and I thought this... it— it might be useful?”

He handed her the PADD he had been shielding himself with. Crusher looked at the contents, momentarily confused.

“It’s… well, um.” Reg looked even more embarrassed and uncomfortable than when he’d arrived, if that were possible. “It’s…” He leaned awkwardly over the desk and pointed at the display on the PADD. “It’s the things he ordered most often. From the replicator, in— in his quarters. I thought… if… it would be— it _might_ be— if you knew what he liked the most.”

“Oh, Reg.” Beverly now found she too was close to tears. “That is incredibly thoughtful. Thank you. We’ve been having problems with his feeding.” She pressed the PADD between the palms of her hands, as if it were some cherished text. “ _Thank you_.”

Barclay smiled shyly at that. “I’m glad, I’m… glad. I should… I need to—”

He stood up and Beverly stood too.

“Before you leave, do you want to see Geordi?” Crusher asked.

Reg looked stricken at the thought.

“We’re trying to get him used to people,” Beverly explained. “He’s lightly sedated, but he is awake.”

“Oh, I— no, no…”

“It’s fine,” said Beverly, a hand on Barclay’s shoulder to encourage him.

She led him to a side room, off the main area, to where Geordi could have a little privacy. He lay beneath a single shimmering sheet and there were protective rails on each side of his bed, as if for a child. There was a concerto playing quietly in the background, whilst Nurse Ogawa read to him from one of the Captain’s antique books. It was something sea-faring, if Beverly recalled.

His eyes were open and his head turned towards them as Beverly and Reg approached. A small sound escaped his throat and his left arm pushed against the railings.

“It’s ok,” Alyssa said, gently catching his fingers. “It’s ok, it’s Dr Crusher and Lt. Barclay.”

Geordi rolled his head, his eyes fixed on nothing.

“How has he been?” Beverly asked.

“Good today, he seems a little calmer.”

“Reg,” Beverly said quietly. “Step a little closer and keep your voice as low as you can. Stroke the back of his hand, like this.”

Beverly took Reg’s hand in hers and gently brushed his fingers over Geordi’s hand.

“Very gently, so that he knows you won’t hurt him. Ok, now you can let him know who you are.”

“I’m Reg. I’m _Lieutenant_ Barclay, sir. I… I… uh…” He turned to Beverly in desperation. “I never know what to say…”

“Reading to him would be a wonderful way to keep him engaged. You could bring a book, next time you visit.”

“That… yes… I could bring a book,” he nodded, wringing his hands now there was no PADD to keep them occupied.

Beverly smiled. “That would be wonderful.”

Barclay’s attention wandered to the screens above the bed.

“These, they…” said Reg, frowning at the images of Geordi’s brain that were displayed there. “Th-they look more like a systems diagram.”

“What did you say?” Beverly asked, sharper than she’d intended

“Oh, just, well…” Reg gestured at the screen. “They don’t look… very biological, they look… like a systems diagram.”

Beverly was gazing at the brain scans. “They do, don’t they?” she said under her breath. She squeezed his arm tightly, amazed that she hadn’t seen that earlier. “Reg Barclay, you’re a genius!” 

Barclay was floundering. “I… well… I— I was… but not… not any more.” 

“I’ve been treating him like this was a neurological issue and it isn’t, not completely. It’s a computer systems problem too.” Beverly’s eyes shone with that realisation, that there might be _something_ that could be done for Geordi.

“I’m happy… happy.” Reg smiled rigidly. “Happy I could help, but I… really, I have to… in Engineering.”

“Thank you, Reg, _thank you_ for today.”

***

“Lieutenant Wright, please, take a seat,” said the Captain.

She sat down, straight-backed and focused. Picard couldn’t recall having spoken to her in his Ready Room before and her stiffness spoke to that. He began to explain the reason he had asked to see her. 

“It is now clear that Commander La Forge will not be returning to duty. Given that his medical discharge from Starfleet is currently being processed, I will be making your position of Chief Engineer permanent, effective immediately.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Picard had rarely seen anyone look so miserable at news of their promotion.

“It’s never easy, taking on the role of a fallen colleague, particularly where they were also a friend. But since stepping up, in the most trying of circumstances, you have proven yourself more than capable. The transition really has been seamless, well done.”

“Thank you, sir, but I can’t take any credit. Commander La Forge… it was easy to work hard for him, and everybody still is.” She was quiet for a moment, reflecting. “He always had a smile or a joke to lighten the load, but he was tough, when he needed to be.”

“Woe betide anyone who messed with his engines,” Picard said and she smiled for the first time. “They’re yours now, Lieutenant. I am certain you will continue to do Geordi proud.”

“I’ll make sure of that, sir.”

“I know you will. Now, on another matter, I have been informed that rather excellent bottle of _Moët_ _et Chandon_ that Guinan has secreted behind the bar is yours?”

Wright’s face fell, shock registering that her Captain knew about the ‘contraband’ item.

He held up his hand to reassure her. “It’s a good year. A very good year. Don’t let it go to waste,” he said, gently. “You’re dismissed.”

After she had left, Picard remained in his Ready Room. He turned to his small access computer and checked on the ETA of the _Illustrious_. Dr Edward La Forge was expected later that day.

“That poor family,” Jean-Luc murmured.

The disappearance of the _Hera_ had come a few short weeks after Geordi was lost. Silva La Forge’s ship had simply vanished. There had been no distress call, no trace of wreckage or weapons fire and nothing anomalous in the preceding days or hours to explain the loss of more than three hundred souls.

Picard brought up the latest on the _Hera_. The only recent update was the decision by Starfleet to scale back the search still further. In light of the complete lack of progress, Picard could not say he disagreed with the order, though it was tantamount to an admission of defeat, which did not sit well with him.

He reviewed the scant findings and then began to prepare for his meeting with Geordi’s father.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“Dr La Forge,” said Picard, soberly greeting their guest in Transporter Room One. “I only wish we were meeting under other circumstances.”

Geordi’s father nodded. “Can I see him?”

“Of course,” Picard said. “This is our ship’s Counselor, Deanna Troi.”

Deanna stepped forward. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, Sickbay is this way, Doctor.”

The disappearance of his wife and his son within weeks of each other had taken a devastating toll. Edward La Forge was a man haunted by grief; he was hollow-eyed, his face was creased with sorrow. Deanna felt that it ran through him like a chasm, jagged and vast, twin earthquakes that had ripped apart his world.

They arrived on Deck Twelve in silence and as they approached Sickbay, Troi felt the need to speak.

“I understand that Dr Crusher has been playing your voice to Geordi,” Deanna said. “In anticipation of your visit.”

“She has.”

“And she has briefed you on how to approach Geordi, given his condition?”

“Yes,” he said, grief draining the words of any venom, “I’ve been told how I’m allowed touch my son.”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry, that it is necessary.”

“I know you are,” he said, utterly exhausted.

When they got to the door of the private room, Edward La Forge paused. Beverly was beside Geordi’s bed and she turned and beckoned them closer.

“Please, Dr La Forge, come in,” she said softly.

Deanna and Picard followed Geordi’s father, but remained a few paces back.

“He’s sleeping?” Edward asked, keeping his voice low.

Beverly stood aside and let him take his place beside his son.

“He is," she said. "He had a restless night but he has settled this afternoon. We’ve been getting Geordi used to having someone hold his hand.”

Edward La Forge glanced at Beverly, his eyes were liquid and they shone too brightly. That look was perfectly matched by a twist of anguish that Deanna felt from deep within him.

“It won’t upset him if I do?” he asked.

“Slowly and gently,” Beverly said. “And it should be fine.”

With a tenderness that almost broke Deanna’s heart, Edward La Forge took his son’s hand and began to speak to him softly.

Beverly retreated and the three of them left the room, allowing Dr La Forge the space and privacy the moment demanded.

“I’ll be on the bridge,” said Picard, his gaze fixed on Geordi’s room.

Deanna nodded. “I’ll advise when we’re on our way.”

Later, in the Ready Room, Deanna sat with Edward La Forge at the Captain’s desk, a difficult conversation ahead for all of them.

“You were both with him?”

“We were,” Picard said. “We were part of an extended search of the planet.”

“If there is anything you can tell me… I’m not sure I understand what happened. Or why you were all down there.”

Deanna could feel Edward La Forge reaching, desperately reaching, for any new fragment that might make sense of why this had happened. 

“And Ensign Oliver,” Dr La Forge said. “Ella and Michael wanted me to ask after him too.”

Picard sat a little straighter in his chair. “I didn’t know you knew Dan Oliver’s family.”

Edward La Forge said simply, “We’ve become close.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but the implication hung heavy in the air.

“I understand,” the Captain said calmly, but Deanna could feel his deep unease. “I’m not sure what I can add to the documented records, but the planet’s unusual electromagnetic emissions meant scans were useless. In trying to locate Commander Data, Lore and the Borg, I determined that a grid search, both aerial and on foot, of the area around their abandoned shuttle was required.”

“What was the primary goal? Was it neutralising the Borg or finding the android?”

“It was my view that both outcomes could be achieved, the neutralising of the Borg threat and the recovery of Commander Data.”

“I’ve spoken with Admiral Nechayev,” said Dr La Forge. “Her assessment of the situation differs.”

“The _Enterprise_ was taken a considerable distance from the task force, as we’d travelled via the transwarp conduit. Admiral Nechayev was not on scene.”

“Did you seek her advice before actioning the search?”

“No.” Picard pulled down his tunic. “There was a two to three day subspace delay on communications.”

“Sixty three hours, nine minutes,” Dr La Forge said.

“I’m sure that is correct,” Picard said.

“Why did you enter the structure without backup?”

“It appeared empty, possibly recently abandoned. It wasn’t until we were inside that we realised there was a dampening field in operation that had masked the Borg life-signs.”

“That was when Dan was killed?”

“Our position was overrun. Ensign Oliver had his weapon raised, I think he may have been about to fire.”

“Why didn’t you order him to lower it, if you were outnumbered?”

“We all had our weapons drawn at that point, it had been seconds. I suppose...” Picard inhaled deeply. “There was still the thought that we might hold them off.”

“Did he fire?”

“No, he was fired upon before he was able. A single shot. I’m not sure what else I can add, other than my sincere condolences to the Olivers.”

Edward La Forge nodded. “What happened then?”

“We were taken to a holding cell,” Picard said.

“The three of you were held together?”

“Yes,” said Deanna, “so we were able to be with Geordi. He wasn’t alone.”

“It was Data that did this, not Lore?” Edward asked, his voice stiff, struggling to hold onto his emotions.

Deanna and the Captain both nodded.

Dr La Forge took a deep breath and then asked, “So it was Data that made Geordi surrender his VISOR?”

“I’m afraid so,” Deanna said. “He was able to see the carrier wave that was controlling Data. We also think it may have been Lore testing his loyalty, by having him target Geordi in that way.”

“Commander Data’s ethical programme had been disabled,” Picard added. “Making him susceptible to Lore’s influence.”

“If I wanted to see him? If I wanted to see the android?”

“I would strongly advise against that,” Deanna said.

“I want to look him in the eye and ask him why.”

“Nothing good,” said Deanna firmly, “ _nothing_ , will come of a meeting of that nature.” 

Edward La Forge was so mired in grief and anger, he was in danger of opening himself up to even further damage. He did not think that was possible, but Deanna knew that it was. She felt the need to be more forceful as he was not hearing her.

“He is deeply disturbed and is fixated on Geordi. Your being there would be an opportunity he would exploit for his own needs. He would think nothing of manipulating you to feed off your grief and your devastation. Please, you don’t need to hear anything that Data has to say.”

“From the moment Geordi met him,” Edward said, his voice quavering, “he _eulogised_ about him. He spoke as if he was some kind of paragon… some perfect moral being.” Edward La Forge broke down. “Geordi— he worshipped him. He worshipped him and he did _this_ to him.”

Deanna felt that wall break, his ragged composure cracking apart and collapsing down as his emotions overwhelmed him.

“Did he suffer?” Dr La Forge managed, tears streaking his face.

“Don’t,” said Deanna. “Don’t torment yourself with these questions, please.”

“I have to know. If the answer is yes, I need to know.”

“He never gave up,” Troi said, trying to divert the question. “He was trying to reach Data the whole time.”

“My son can’t walk, he can’t speak, he can’t see,” his voice, wracked with grief, was growing louder with each word. La Forge fought to get control of his rage. “What they did to him… I need to know it was worth it.”

Deanna felt his words land like a physical thing, hitting both her and the Captain like a blow to the stomach. They were stunned into silence; the air in the room suddenly too difficult to breathe. 

With neither of them able offer a reply, Dr La Forge pressed for a response.

“I need to know that emptying this Starship and playing hunt the android was worth what happened to my son.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bleak alternative take on the events of Descent. Lore and Data are pitiless. Geordi suffers severe mental and sexual abuse. It's an AU that moves away from the events of the episodes a short time after Geordi's first 'treatment'. Really bad things happen to good people. Please be mindful of the tags.

“Why will you not let me be with Lore?” Data pleaded.

Deanna had not even sat down before Data had begun begging. 

That morning, she had meditated for several hours in preparation. Dealing with Data’s raw, unmodulated emotion was exhausting and she needed all of her abilities in order to be able to manage them safely.

“You know that we want to help you. You know that there are other things to feel than anger and hate and rage. You have felt them, I have felt them with you. Let me help you. Let me guide you through this, now that Lore is gone.”

“He is gone because you took him from me!” Anger again, but smaller somehow because fear was beginning to build.

“We had to. He killed thousands of people.”

“It was for the greater good,” Data said flatly.

“Killing thousands was ‘good’?”

He did not reply immediately, his head ticking to the side, uncertainty flashed over his face and then it was gone.

“It was for the greater good,” Data repeated, but he sounded less strident than before.

“Of whom? For the greater good of whom?”

“For the Borg and ourselves.”

“How many Borg were under Lore’s command on that ship?”

Data looked at her, suspicion curled on his lips. “Three thousand, nine hundred, thirty two.”

“Four thousand, eight hundred and three people were killed across those attacks on the colonies and outposts. Which is greater?”

“Do not quote numbers at me, Counselor,” Data spat, but Deanna knew she had got under his skin, she could feel his annoyance and his conflict simmering.

“Then let me quote the outcomes, and you can tell me what is great and good about them. Thousands dead, you in a detention cell, Lore dismantled, dozens of damaged Borg, Geordi in Sickbay—”

“I am his proxy in medical matters. You do not _touch_ him,” Data snarled.

A surge of possessive rage had erupted from Data at the mention of Geordi’s name.

“You’re not any more. The proxy was transferred to his father several days ago.”

Data glared at her, his eyes were stone cold, his emotions white hot. “Geordi belongs to me,” he said, his tone low and dangerous. “Lore gave him to me. He is _mine_!”

“The way you are now?” Deanna said, a harsh edge to her voice. “You won’t ever see Geordi again.”

Data’s mouth fell open, his eyes grew large. “Do not say that. He is mine and I _will_ have him again.”

She prepared herself for what she was about to unleash. Deanna shook her head. “No, you won’t. You’ll never touch him again. You’ll never _feel_ him again. You’ll never hurt him again.” 

Through his petulance and defiance, Deanna could feel a violent, craving lust burning within Data. It was repulsive. But almost immediately that feeling was overwhelmed by waves of frustration and anger.

Trying and failing to mask that frustration, Data scoffed, “I can recall what I did to him in perfect detail.”

“But the emotions, the feelings, that go along with those memories. They are not the same, are they?”

Data looked away, scowling. He couldn’t hide from her and she could feel that something was shifting.

“They are muted, distant, lacking,” Deanna said, pushing, pushing now she knew she had him in a corner. “You only truly _feel_ emotions in the moment. You remember that you felt pleasure, but you do not remember the pleasure itself. I can feel you yearning for something more than this. Now you know that it exists, I can feel you aching to experience it again. All you ever feel now is pain, anger, fear and frustration. That is the legacy that Lore has left you with and he is not coming back to you.”

“This is the legacy that _you_ have left me with,” Data said, but there was no real force behind his words.

“You know that isn’t true. We want to help you. This doesn’t have to be the rest of your life but you have to let us help you.”

Data looked up at her. He was so lost. It hurt to see him so far gone, but Deanna could feel there was something there, a flicker inside Data that wanted more than hate or rage.

“We will be docking at Starbase 143 in a little over ten days,” Troi said. “Geordi and his father will disembark the _Enterprise_ and go on to a rehabilitation facility. You will be transported to a detention cell. You will be held and your case assessed by the Starbase JAG office, before a decision is made about your future. Whether there is a trial or not, with things as they are, I cannot see anything other than some form of incarceration or institutionalisation lies ahead for you.”

Data had turned away from her, but she knew he was listening, she could feel his anger seething but doubt was churning below the surface.

“Your ethical programme is an intrinsic part of who you were meant to be. That chip Lore created was not.”

“You want me to go back to how I was before? That empty, colourless existence? You want me to go back to that nothingness, having known pleasure and anger and hate?”

Deanna walked over to the security desk and picked up a small box from the console.

Taking it over to Data, she said, “The chip that Lore gave to you was never meant to be. This one was.” 

Deanna opened the box and a tiny sliver of silicon shimmered in the light. She felt Data’s amazement, his need, his yearning. He gazed at the chip in awe.

“Your father made this for you,” said Deanna. “Let us help you. We can help you be complete.”


	17. Chapter 17

There were more than four terraquads of data: a full copy of the computer files from Lore’s laboratory, uploaded to the _Enterprise_ before they had broken orbit.

Beverly was trawling through them with Yelena Wright and Reg Barclay, trying to decypher the encryption which would allow them in. It had been attempted at the time, but little progress had been made. Now, at least, there was some urgency behind their efforts.

When Reg had mentioned that Geordi’s brain scans looked more like systems diagrams than human neurology, it was like a light had been switched on in Beverly’s mind. What had Data actually been trying to do to Geordi? Those nano-cortical fibres were designed to mimic Geordi’s neural firing patterns. But to be able to replace his brain functions, they would have first had to map what was already there.

Somewhere in these files, Beverly was hoping there was a snapshot of Geordi’s entire neurology.

Yelena thought they had identified the encryption codec, but all their attempts to crack the cypher had so far failed. If they couldn’t get this key file open, the rest of the data would remain locked away and with it perhaps Geordi’s only hope of recovery.

“I… I don’t know what else… we’ve tried everything,” Reg said, twisting his hands and pacing behind the chairs in Beverly’s office.

Yelena sighed and shook her head. “I’m done. I’m done for today.”

“We have made progress,” Beverly said. “Can we re-convene tomorrow at 0900 hours?”

“Sure, we’ll be here,” Wright said, hauling herself to her feet. “Come on, Reg, I need a drink. Do you want to join us, Doctor?”

“You go ahead, I have some things to finish up. Good night.”

“G’night, Doctor,” said Reg, with a shy wave of his hand.

It was eating away at Beverly; to be so close to a potential solution but have no way to get at. The unspoken concern, throughout their fruitless endeavours, had been that breaking an encryption that had likely been created by Data or Lore was going to be damn near impossible. Yelena had a few contacts and she had fired the codec off to them, but there were no guarantees.

Beverly set that aside for the moment. She was in touch with several neurologist and neurosurgical colleagues with whom she had been corresponding on Geordi’s case. She wanted to update them with her idea as well as expand her reach. Crusher now knew she needed to include for cybernetic researchers and she had also looked up the protegee of the surgeon who had carried out Geordi’s original VISOR implantation surgery. She wanted to have her broad base of expertise in place and ready to go, should they be able to get their hands on that critical data.

It was bold, beyond cutting edge, and nothing remotely like it had ever been attempted before. Citing her sources and backing up her hypothesis with analysis and computer simulations, Beverly began to compose a detailed proposal for her cadre of specialists. It was late and her eyes felt full of grit, but she was damned if she was going to waste a single second sleeping when there was work that needed to be done.

It was after 0200 when Beverly finally sent off the document. Some of the recipients would no doubt think she had slipped the bounds of reality, but if there was even a remote chance that this would work, she was certain they should try.

Beverly awoke the next morning with a stiff neck, an aching back, and eyes that felt as though they’d been rolled in sand. She stood in the shower and turned it onto high, letting the sonic waves pummel her aching muscles into submission.

Overnight, she had been inundated with messages and replies to her proposal and she was pleasantly surprised that the majority had at least entertained the idea and engaged with it. One or two had dismissed it as impossible, but as she listened to more of her colleagues, she was heartened by how seriously many were taking it. No one thought it was going to be easy, or straightforward, or in fact, knew how to even begin to go about it, but in _principle_ it might just be possible – they hadn’t completely ruled it out.

They had also begun to correspond with each other and it was beginning to take on its own kind of life. Even the nay-sayers were being drawn into the debate. Beverly could see her idea evolving almost in front of her eyes, as they began to interact and argue and offer solutions. It was exactly what she had hoped for and it was exactly what Geordi was going to need; a highly-motivated, highly-skilled, multi-disciplinary team would be the only way this had a chance.

Of course, without that snapshot of Geordi’s neural pathways, the point was moot. The information she needed was locked away in those files and Beverly had to believe that they would break that codec somehow.

After checking on Geordi, Beverly headed to her office. She found Yelena and Reg were there already, hammering away on their PADDs, and far more animated than they had been last night.

“I love Vulcans,” Wright said. “Did I ever tell you, I love them?”

“N-no… no I don’t think you did,” Reg said, smiling awkwardly as Beverly sat down.

“Have they broken the code?” Crusher asked, Wright’s energy indicating that possibility.

“Not quite, but they have narrowed down the infinities to just three.”

“Does that help?” That Beverly was out of her depth on this was something of an understatement.

“Y-yes,” said Reg. “The… uh… reduction of the infinities to a finite number is a good… good first step.”

“We can at least start to design some programmes to attack those specifics and try to narrow things down further. I can’t say we will be able to crack this, but we’re closer than we were yesterday.”

“That’s great news! And I've had some correspondence from a pair of cybernetic colleagues that I would love to get your input on.”

They plunged into the latest neuro-cybernetic research and spent the rest of the morning hunkered down at Beverly’s desk, a genuine spark to their discussions that hadn’t been there previously.

***

“I think Data is close,” said Deanna, addressing the senior staff who were seated in the observation lounge. “When I showed him the chip, he wanted it. Very badly. When I negated to mention it in our next session, he brought up the prospect.”

“Counselor,” Picard asked, “does he understand it will only be installed alongside a full reboot of his ethical systems?”

“I have made that clear to him.”

Will, sitting opposite her, nodded as did the Captain.

“If that is the case and he goes for this,” said Wright, “Worf and I need to start working up the security protocols for actually carrying out that installation.”

“Agreed, it will not be simple,” the Klingon said. “As I understand from our initial discussions he cannot be in shutdown mode.”

“I can install the chip whilst he’s in shutdown,” said Wright, “but he will have to be conscious for the reboot to work.”

Worf grunted, pondering something. “I suggest beaming him into the medical Isolation Room. Trigger another EM pulse, incapacitate him, then a site-to-site transport to that location whilst he is shutdown. He can then be restrained with the force fields available in Sickbay when you require him to be conscious.”

“I like that idea,” said Wright. “I think the field emitters will need some modifications to deal with Data’s strength, but that can be done. If you don’t mind us changing one of your rooms into a cybernetics lab/prison cell, Doctor.”

“You can do what you like, if it brings Data back to us.”

“Lt. Wright,” said Riker, “can we be certain that swapping those chips over and carrying out a manual reboot of his ethical programme is all that will be needed? The kedion pulse should have worked. It hasn’t. Does that mean there could be other things wrong with Data?”

“It’s a good point. I won’t know for sure until I get him linked up to the computer. I guess we have all been assuming that the only block is that one programme. Commander Data assiduously backed up his files. If there is new coding or even a whole new programme in there, I’ll be able to tell by comparing his last backup from… before all this.”

“But he’d need to be conscious for those checks,” Riker said, “is that correct?”

“He would. You’re concerned about that?”

“If there is more than just that one blocked file, we’d have Data, not fixed, yet conscious, outside of the brig and linked to the main computer. You see my problem with this scenario?”

“I share your concerns, Commander,” said Worf. “Lt. Wright, I suggest we firewall the Isolation Room, you could create a secure channel for your required computer access.”

“You’d be confident you could lock out _Data_?” Riker said to Wright.

She thought for a while. “No, I wouldn’t be.”

A murmur spread around the table.

“So, how about…” Wright continued. “This will be some work, but how about a dedicated, stand-alone computer core. I copy everything I need over and hook Data up to that. That way he’d never have any direct access to the main computer.”

Worf and Riker were both nodding

“Lieutenants,” said Picard to Worf and Wright, “make it so.”

They gave a joint nod of acknowledgement and the two officers left to begin their modifications.

“How is Geordi?” the Captain asked.

“There is little change, day to day,” said Dr Crusher. “I’d hoped his father’s presence might have stirred something, but Deanna can probably tell you more.”

“I’m afraid there is not much that I can add.” Deanna reflected on the hours she had spent next to his bedside. “I don’t sense anything different from Geordi when his father is present. His intense fear and confusion are unmodulated, except when he is sedated. I wish there was more.”

“Deanna,” said Will. “It’s ok.”

“I know that everyone was hoping… there would be something.”

“Please don’t feel you are responsible for having to deliver bad news,” said the Captain. “We are where we are. Dr Crusher, I understand your idea has gained some traction?”

“It has,” she replied. “We’re still a long way from a treatment, but there is some consensus building about how it could be done.”

“Have you discussed any of this with Geordi’s father?”

Beverly looked uncomfortable. “Not yet. I don’t want to raise his hopes unnecessarily. If we can’t get those files unlocked, there’s no prospect of a treatment. Yelena’s Vulcan contacts have narrowed the possibilities, but they haven’t made any progress since. Based on their most recent communication, they no longer expect to.”

“Then it seems likely,” said Picard, “if there is to be any hope for Geordi’s recovery, we’re going to need Commander Data to come back to us and give us those codes.”

Beverly nodded and there were grim faces around the table, the stakes for Data’s return now higher than ever.


	18. Chapter 18

“Nuh. Nuh. Nuh.” Data’s head was jolting violently to the left as a half-formed sound emerged from his vocal processor. “Nuh. Nuh. Nuh.”

“Is this normal?” Worf asked, a snarl of concern curled onto his lip.

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” said Wright, rechecking her readouts.

Data was practically convulsing under the restraining weight of the force field. Pinned to the bed, his eyes were wide and unblinking, his mouth pulled down in a grimace. The silvery cable that was plugged into his positronic net jerked with each of his juddering movements.

“His programme is rebooting,” Wright confirmed. “Everything is saying that the forced restart has been successful.” 

She put her hand over her mouth momentarily, Data’s response to her direct actioning of the programme clearly disturbing to her. It was disturbing to Worf too, not that he would ever admit to it.

Data’s movements slowly began to smooth out, the left-sided head jerk transforming into a stiff, constant shake of his head, a very deliberate motion in the negative. His voice soon began to echo that, the half-formed word now a plaintive cry.

“No! No! No!” Data moaned. “I did not. I did not.” 

“Commander Data?” Worf asked. “Are you all right?”

“Please,” he begged, his eyes wide and filled with fear. “What have I done? Lieutenant, what have I done?”

Worf glanced over to Wright. “Have his memory banks been affected?”

She shook her head, scrolling files. “Nothing should have affected his recall or his storage, but I’ll run a level three diagnostic to be sure.”

“How could I?” Data pleaded, his eyes beseeching Worf for some answer he was unable to give. “Please tell me, I did not!”

“Worf to Counselor Troi. Lt. Wright appears to have successfully rebooted Commander Data. Please come to the Isolation Room.”

“What have I done?” Data asked, bewildered and appalled, his eyes darting as he reviewed his internal files. “What have I done?”

Worf suppressed a snarl. “ _You_ … have done many things. Do you only feel regret for them now?”

Data could only give a choked-off sob in reply, golden tears slipping down his face.

“Everything checks out,” said Wright. “His ethical programme is a perfect match for the backup copy. There’s been no corruption or re-writing. There are significant additional memory files with a new subfolder of emotional responses. Other than those, which we expected, he is as he was.”

Troi entered and to Worf she appeared tense and focused, as though she were about to go into battle.

“Is he faking this?” Worf asked her bluntly.

“No,” Deanna shook her head, her eyes never leaving Data’s. “Data?”

The android’s eyes locked onto Deanna’s. “Counselor, please!”

“I know,” she said gently. “I know.”

“Please,” he cried. “Please, I cannot… I cannot endure this!”

In his anguish Data was beginning to thrash against the force field.

“You will not be released until you cease this behaviour,” Worf said, his disgust at this spectacle merging with some relief that this _was_ what they had intended.

“Calm down,” Deanna said, “try to calm down. We can help you, but you need to calm down.”

“Counselor, please, please help me. I feel… I _feel—_ ” Data made a sound and it was that of a creature in great pain or distress.

“The consequences of your actions will now rest heavily upon you,” Worf said.

“Lieutenant!” Deanna said, snapping her attention up to his glowering gaze.

The Daughters of the Fifth House were formidable and Worf accepted the admonishment.

“Data. Data!” said Deanna. “If we release the restraining field — listen to me. Listen, if we release the restraining field, will you calm down?”

Data looked to her, misery all over his usually impassive face. “Please, help me!”

“Can you take down the field,” Deanna said, not asking a question but giving an order.

“I am not comfortable removing it,” said Worf, “given his current levels of agitation. May I suggest a gradual weakening of the field, until we are certain he will comply?”

Worf could tell Deanna didn’t like the idea of Data’s continued confinement, but she was unable to argue with the sense in proceeding with circumspection.

“Lt. Wright?” Worf asked. “Do you have any objections?”

She exhaled, concern on her face. “Everything looks as it should,” Wright said, glancing at her monitors. “But I had no idea it was going to be like this.”

“Then I will begin reducing the field intensity. Computer, reduce restraining field by 10%.”

“Restraining field at 90% of new standard,” the computer confirmed.

“Is that better?” Deanna asked. “Try to calm down.”

“I cannot… I… I feel…” Data’s face contorted in bewildered anguish. “I feel… in my core processors… I feel… pain?”

“I know you do,” Deanna said. “Please try, try to move past it. Focus on my voice, listen to each word, let it fill your mind. Each sound, each word, calming, soothing. Close your eyes, listen to my voice, each word… that’s right, that’s right, keep that focus…”

Remarkably, Data’s agitation was diminishing. Rather than break the spell that Counselor Troi was weaving, Worf went over to the workstation and manually began to reduce the field strength. By the time it was down to zero, Data had ceased to struggle and though Worf could still see torment on his face, he was now lying still.

Deanna had taken his hand and was holding it tight.

“I’m here, Data, I won’t leave you. We are all here for you, you know we care about you.”

Data was looking into Deanna’s eyes, gold into black, and Worf could see that he was desperately searching her face for something. Data's free hand curled across his middle and his fingers began jabbing into his stomach.

“I _feel_ …” he said, his voice breaking with overwhelming emotion. “I _feel_.”

The gesture had clearly disturbed Deanna and she looked strangely, suddenly upset.

“Lt. Wright,” the Counselor said. “Are his positronic systems showing any signs of cascade failure?”

Wright was taken aback by Troi’s oddly specific question, as Worf was himself.

“There is no sign at all of a cascade failure,” Yelena replied. “Why would you think of a thing like that?”

Deanna shook her head. “If you’re sure?”

“Everything is nominal,” the engineer replied. “There isn’t even a residual effect from the EM pulse, he’s… nominal.”

Wright’s limited contact thus far with Commander Data had clearly left her vocabulary lacking, though Worf supposed a more human-like, ‘he’s fine,’ would have been wildly inaccurate. Data was clearly very far from being fine, even if all of his systems were functioning within their usual limits.

“Sit up, Data,” Deanna said softly. “You can sit up now.”

He did so, sitting bolt upright and then he swung his legs off the bed. Worf drew his phaser, which in turn drew a withering glare from Deanna. He was not about to back down, however, and he maintained his aim on Commander Data’s back.

Deanna leaned forward and held Data, mostly to comfort him, but Worf was certain also because it would scupper any attempt of his to fire. He marked that down as another victory for Counselor Troi.

She held him for a long time. It was as if Data was a child; Deanna rocked him, as Worf had seen her do with Alexander. In turn, the commander was clinging to her desperately.

“Geordi,” he heard Data sob into her shoulder. “What have I done to Geordi?”

***

Deanna pressed her communicator. Data was weeping on the floor of his quarters. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms were wrapped around his shins and he was shaking with the force of his emotions.

“Troi to Lt. Wright.”

“Wright here.”

“I have the code,” Deanna said, the PADD in her hand holding all the hope for Geordi in a string of ones and zeros.

“Oh my God. Seriously? I’m on my way.”

Deanna was mentally exhausted. Data’s emotions, now they were truly his own, were vastly more complex and forceful than those he had experienced with Lore’s substandard version of the chip. That he was also contending with a level of guilt and self-loathing she had rarely encountered added a violent edge to his emotions. His android logic, his android memory and now his android emotion gave him no respite, no place to hide. 

He was inconsolable.

When Deanna had asked if he would give them the code to help Geordi, there had been no hesitation. She had, in fact, felt him grab onto her suggestion like a drowning man might grab onto a rope. He had taken the PADD with a tragic eagerness and hope had flickered briefly over his tear-streaked face. He was so desperate to make amends, so torn apart by his actions, that Deanna felt immense relief that she had been able to give him this opportunity.

As far as Data was concerned, his fear that he would be a ‘bad person’ with emotions had been proved brutally correct. It was important for Deanna to show him that was not the case. She would be able to use his keenness to help Geordi’s situation to prove he was still the person they had always known. His grief over what had happened and his desperation to help clearly showed he was not ‘bad’ or ‘wicked’ or ‘evil’.

The door chimed.

“Come in,” Deanna said.

Lt. Wright entered and was by Deanna’s side in a second. She passed the PADD to Yelena who glanced at the contents and nodded. The engineer then went over to Data and knelt next to him.

Deanna was not concerned. She could feel a huge surge of hope and gratitude from Wright. There were residual feelings of resentment and anger, but they were vastly outweighed by her sorrow for what had happened to Data as well as to Geordi.

“Sir,” Wright said to Data, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I want to thank you—” 

She then had to break off for a second before she regained her composure.

“I want to thank you for this,” she finished, her voice scuffed with emotion.

Data was looking into her tear-filled eyes as his own began to fall. His face crumpled and he began to cry again.

“I am so sorry,” he sobbed. “So sorry.”

“I know. I know you are. I have to go, I have to get this to Dr Crusher.”

On her way out, Wright gave Deanna a rough, glancing hug. It spoke of hope and solidarity in the face of insurmountable odds. It gave Deanna a huge boost to feel that jolt of positive emotion after gruelling hours spent with Data’s grief and self-loathing.

Troi turned her attention back to the figure on the floor. She sat down on the sofa next to him and gently put her hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m here, Data,” she said. “I’m here.”


	19. Chapter 19

It was everything and more than she had hoped for. Dr Crusher was amazed at the content of the files Data’s code had unlocked. She had fired off copies to her contacts and the buzz that came back was instantaneous.

Not only was there a complete map of Geordi’s neurology there was superb detail of every synapse and dendritic branch; they had been mapped in exquisite quality. As she made her way through the files, she found there were also comprehensive records on all of the failed experiments that had been conducted on the Borg. Though their physiology was obviously heavily augmented, it was going to be incredibly valuable in treating Geordi to have that information available. 

However, soon Beverly’s disgust at what had been done to them began to coalesce into something more. Qualms about using data that had been obtained in such a way began to grow into serious concerns. One of her team of experts was trying to throw some perspective on her burgeoning moral quandary.

“You’re using this information to treat a fellow victim,” Prof. Nen Yendell said. Her specialty was cybernetic neuro-regeneration and she was one of the louder voices in Beverly’s group. “I don’t see how that can be wrong. You’re needlessly tying yourself in knots.”

“And if this approach has wider implications, that it can treat other injuries and conditions? A treatment that will have had its origins in torture.”

“What was done to La Forge and those Borg is one of the sickest things I’ve seen. If something good can come of what they went through, then at least this is more than just some horrific thing that happened.”

“I’m glad you can be so pragmatic.”

“The advances that have been made in medicine are nearly always based in suffering, injury, pain and disease. We’re hoping to be able to right a wrong here, Beverly. I can’t speak to the future, what might or might not happen, but if I can see a way to treat my patient, I’m damn well going to take it and history can hang me for it if it wants.”

“If we put a moratorium on the Borg data. Only use that which directly relates to Geordi?”

“But those dead ends that damaged and killed the Borg could be critical in us avoiding those same pitfalls. Beverly, wilfully ignoring data that could save someone’s life is negligent.”

“Are you saying the genie is out of the bottle? That we have no moral obligations other than to our patient?”

“Yes, to your first point. And of course not to your second, but I can’t worry about some theoretical future when there is a patient suffering. And he is suffering, isn’t he, Beverly?”

“You know he is.”

“And yet you want to dance on the head of a pin? Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t been through the whole batch of files yet?”

“No, there are thousands of pages.”

“Right,” Nen leaned over to the side and then files started to arrive on Beverly’s terminal.

“What are these?” Crusher asked, scrolling through the documents.

“Look. Lore specifically asked for volunteers. Those Borg consented to those procedures.”

“Come on, Nen! It couldn’t possibly have been informed consent.”

“I’m guessing the Borg still had a well developed sense of self-sacrifice, even within their new collective. If you want to get yourself off that hook you’ve skewered yourself on, there it is.”

“Nen, we need to have these discussions with Starfleet Medical.”

“I’ve already begun discussing protocols with them. They’re well aware of the circumstances. They are keen to see where this may lead and the clinical framework documents will follow in due course. You’ll find that I advocate for my patient, Doctor, rather than my own moral discomfort.”

Nen’s comment landed like a smack in the mouth and Crusher could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“I beg your pardon?” was all she was able to fashion by way of a response.

“Bev. Beverly. You’re his attending, but once La Forge transfers to Starbase 143, he’s not your responsibility anymore. Given the kind of care he needs and the proposal that is taking shape, I will be taking over as his primary care physician. Yasmina Hussain and Kell Ramahen are in agreement, so the rest should fall in behind.”

“I see,” said Beverly, and she did. All too clearly.

“This isn’t an end around.”

“No?” said Beverly.

“As I said, you’ll shortly be relinquishing his care to Starbase 143. It makes sense for these measures to be put into place sooner rather than later. Have you spoken with La Forge Snr yet?”

“No. I was going to wait until a consensus had been reached. But it would appear,” Beverly added icily, “one already has.”

Nen sat back in her chair. “I’d appreciate your arranging our meeting with his father as soon as you can. We can talk all we like, but if he’s not on board, then it goes nowhere. I presume you’d still like to sit in?”

“Counselor Troi and I have developed a close relationship with Dr La Forge. I think it is important that we are both there.”

“Certainly, I’ll await details of the schedule. Yendell out.”

Beverly stared at her blank screen, her temper very nearly boiling over. Very slowly and very deliberately, she began to unpick that seething anger. She knew a large part of it was her wounded professional pride and that needed to be firmly put to one side. Even though she disagreed with Yendell on the use of the Borg data, she knew the Professor taking the lead on his case was going to be Geordi’s best chance. 

She was one of the few humans who had both a Nobel and a T’pal prize, and her standing within her field commanded nothing but respect. Beverly had known she was a no-nonsense character, but it was still something else to be on the wrong end of that bluntness. 

Beverly felt that her and Deanna’s presence at the meeting with Geordi’s father was going to be critical. If they were to persuade Dr La Forge that their proposal had merit, Crusher strongly suspected that Nen’s brusque manner alone would not be enough to win him over.

Beverly began to send out the meeting arrangements, her pride and her dignity still smarting.

***

Picard was in his Ready Room, going over the latest communique from Starfleet, pondering a second cup of tea, when a blinding flash of light burst in front of his desk. It vanished to reveal Q, standing proudly before him, as smug as ever in his Starfleet captain’s uniform.

Jean-Luc’s heart sank through the floor.

“What the _hell_ do you want?” he barked at the entity, all of his poise and self-possession evaporating at the mere sight of him.

Q huffed to himself. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“You’re not my friend. What do you want?”

“I want to repay a favour. I owe Data my life, I owe the _Enterprise_ … a debt of gratitude I suppose.”

“I thought you had disposed of that _debt_ with your previous inanity.”

“I tried to do something nice for you Jean-Luc, but it turned out that it almost cost you your head. I see now, that it wasn’t such a nice thing after all. So my debt to you stands.”

Picard put his head in his hands.

“A proposal, for you Jean-Luc.”

“Really, Q, I am past the point at whi—”

“Hear me out, please. If I offered to fix the emotionally-incontinent Data or the actually-incontinent La Forge, which would you choose?”

“I won’t play your sick, twisted, petty-minded games, Q!”

“It’s not a game. I can assure you of that. This is a serious, sober offer of assistance, Picard. Which would you choose?”

“Commander La Forge,” Picard replied, with no further hesitation.

“ _Mon Capitaine_!” Q cried, feigning great shock. “You would choose an ordinary engineer over an extraordinary android? Come now. Don’t tease.”

“Commander La Forge’s injury is quite possibly beyond our ability to heal. If you were to intervene—”

“He was rude to me once. Did you know that?” Q said, apparently still wounded by the memory of some indignity he had suffered. “When I was at my most vulnerable, La Forge… was mean to me.”

“Is your ego so fragile, it can’t take a home truth or two?”

“ _Au contraire_ , but I should warn you Picard, if I restore La Forge, it won’t be with half measures.”

“What are you saying?”

“At the moment, he’s an oblivious idiot.”

“Q!” Picard bellowed, disgusted at his callousness.

“If I do this, he’ll remember everything that was done to him, every abuse, every assault, every agony. Are you sure you want to choose that for him, Jean-Luc?”

Picard was silent for a time. His feelings of guilt and complicity at having been captured and used by the Borg still haunted him in many ways. His recovery was on-going, as was Geordi’s, following his ordeal at the hands of the Romulans. Their twin traumas, though years in the past, had marked them both grievously, and yet they had survived. They had returned to active duty and been able to continue with their lives.

“As a species and as individuals, one of our strengths is our ability to overcome adversity. We have done previously and we shall continue to do so. Commander La Forge would have all the resources and support available to a Starfleet officer.”

“If I go through with this, he’s going to need them,” said Q and he snapped his fingers.

There was a flash of light and Beverly was suddenly in his Ready Room, looking momentarily bewildered and then, as soon as she saw Q, monumentally irritated.

“Your Captain and I are in the process of making a little pact to help Geordi,” Q said, patronisingly.

“What? Jean-Luc!”

“Don’t worry,” Q hushed her. “I can ‘ _make it so’_ his recovery will be gradual, so you can claim all credit for yourself. I don’t want my hand to show in this tawdry affair.”

“I don’t care about credit, I care about my patient and I don’t trust you,” Beverly said, folding her arms. “We have a detailed proposal for Geordi’s treatment.”

“I don’t have to do it now, right this minute,” Q said, ignoring her. “I could give it an hour or so. You’ll have time to gather everyone around his bedside and have ‘a moment’. Wouldn’t that be lovely, Jean-Luc?”

“You believe him?” Beverly asked Picard.

Q leaned forward and whispered loudly to Beverly from behind his hand. “He chose La Forge over Data, can you believe _that_?”

“Data can be helped by us, is being helped,” Picard said, exasperated.

“I am puzzled, why so squeamish about Data’s chip?” Q mused. “Why all those tedious sessions with Troi? You should have knocked him out and taken it out. You had no trouble dismantling his brother as if he were a _malfunctioning_ _toaster_.” Q let the significance of those words linger in the air before he continued. “Your moral duplicity and hypocrisy are breath-taking, Jean-Luc. Truly, spectacular.”

“Hell will freeze over before I take a moral critique from the likes of you,” said Picard.

Q splayed a hand in the centre of his chest for wounded emphasis. “I come to offer an olive branch, yet all I get in return are insults. I withdraw my offer. Let the chips fall where they may.”

Then he vanished in a flash of light.

Picard felt tension in every muscle, every tendon was taut and ready to snap him to action. He made himself take a few deep breaths. It was then he noticed that Beverly was looking at him with a very odd expression on her face.

“What is it?” Jean-Luc asked.

“That… was interesting.”

Not one of the words that had immediately sprung to Picard’s mind when Q had appeared. Obnoxious. Infuriating. Insufferable. Arrogant. Certainly not interesting.

“How so?” His own levels of extreme irritation and frustration were slowly leaking away as the adrenaline ceased to fly around his system.

“He would usually take great pleasure in rubbing our noses in our futile efforts,” Beverly said. “I find it interesting that he didn’t this time. In fact, he glossed right over it when I mentioned the treatment plan.”

“You think that is significant?”

“Possibly. I definitely think it’s interesting.”

Jean-Luc considered his friend’s thoughts. “His twisted way of saying we’re on the right track, perhaps?”

“What else was that all about?”

“Apart from wanting an excuse to yank my chain, you mean?”

Beverly smiled at him. “I’d say that’s generally a given.”

Picard smiled ruefully back at her, still pondering Beverly’s intriguing observation.

“So, as you’re here,” Jean-Luc said, “I might as well ask, where are we with that treatment programme?”

“Deanna and I have a meeting scheduled with Dr La Forge and Professor Yendell for tomorrow afternoon. A viable protocol has been drawn up and we’re presenting that to Geordi’s father at that meeting.”

“Do you think he will approve the proposal?”

Picard knew of Beverly’s plan. The first time he’d heard the details, his mind had recoiled from the very idea of what she was proposing. 

“Tread carefully, Doctor,” he said, the memory still fresh and discomforting.

Beverly nodded. “I fully intend to.”


	20. Chapter 20

“You may hear some things that are upsetting to you,” Deanna said, trying to prepare the way for the news that Edward La Forge was about to hear. “Everything that will be proposed is because we feel that it is Geordi’s best chance of achieving some degree of recovery.”

They were in the observation lounge and Edward La Forge looked from Deanna to Beverly to Professor Yendell on the viewscreen.

“There isn’t a conventional therapy that can help Geordi,” Beverly said. “But we have been formulating a treatment plan.”

“An unconventional treatment plan?” Dr La Forge asked. Deanna could feel a swirl of hope, spiralling up and up into his grief and loss.

“Very,” said Professor Yendell. “It would be highly experimental, but the best physicians and cyberneticists in the Federation are on board with this. We think it can work.”

“Cyberneticists?” Edward said, the word having caused a serious spike of trepidation in him. “Because… of Geordi’s VISOR implants?” he asked, uncertain.

Beverly looked over at Yendell and then back to Dr La Forge. “Not entirely.”

Deanna could feel Beverly’s fear, her deep fear, at the very real possibility that Geordi’s father would reject her idea out of hand. They had agreed that Beverly would explain it to Edward and now Deanna could feel all of her friend’s anxieties surging. So much depended on the outcome of this meeting. They had come a long way since Geordi’s abduction all those months ago, but they all now stood in the foothills of what would be, if given the go ahead, a monumental undertaking.

“Dr La Forge,” Beverly began, “as Deanna said, there are some aspects of the proposal that you may find challenging.” She took a breath. “Recently, we have been able to recover the computer files from Data & Lore’s experiments. Among those files is a perfect, synapse-by-synapse snap-shot of Geordi’s entire neurology _before_ they commenced the irradiation of his brain cells. Using that map, we think it will be possible to restore some or all of Geordi’s higher functions, back to that point, including language and memory." Beverly paused again, taking a moment before she felt able to continue. "But to do so, we will have to use and extend the existing nano-fibre network.”

Deanna felt it. It was immediate. It was visceral. Edward La Forge’s reaction was wrenching. She felt a wave of instinctive revulsion engulf him. His hope was dragged under and she felt it die in the ice cold depths of his shock and disgust.

As that initial torrent of emotion subsided, Deanna could now feel that it was bled through with anger. Edward leaned forward, staring into Beverly.

“You want to finish what they started?” he said in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” Deanna said, trying to intervene, “that this has come as such a shock.”

He ignored her, hardly hearing her, his focus fully on Beverly and the words which had provoked his horrified reaction.

“You want to put _more_ of those things into his head?” His voice trembled and he was hardly in control anymore.

He felt deceived. He felt as though they had played the cruellest of cruel tricks on him, raising his hopes of a treatment and then ripping them away with this despicable idea.

“Your son doesn’t have sufficient undamaged brain matter to proceed without additional nano-cortical support,” said Nen Yendell.

“I don’t believe this,” he said. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

The heels of both hands were on the edge of the table and he pushed himself back in one firm, swift movement.

Then Edward La Forge stood and walked directly out of the room.

“Go after him!” Nen shouted from the viewscreen.

“He needs time,” Deanna said, her hand resting on Beverly’s in consolation.

Her friend was devastated by Dr La Forge’s reaction, which was possibly amongst the worst that they had feared.

“For God’s sake,” Yendell muttered. “Call me when you know what the hell is going on.”

The professor terminated the link, leaving Deanna and Beverly in silence.

“Have I just blown it?” Beverly asked, sick with worry.

Deanna gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know. It wasn’t what he was expecting. At all. It’s come as a huge shock and he is going to need time to process that. I do know that he is desperate and grief-stricken and afraid. Having to see Geordi like that is almost unbearable to him.”

“I can’t help thinking,” said Beverly, twisting with guilt, “what if that was Wesley? What if someone had done that to Wes? Would I want his doctors to pick up where his torturers left off?”

“Don’t do this to yourself,” said Deanna, begging her friend to turn away from that corrosive chain of thought. “It won’t help. I need you. _They_ need you. Do you believe this is the only way to treat Geordi’s injury?”

“Yes,” Beverly said softly.

“Do you believe administering that treatment will be in the best interest of your patient?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe there is a reasonable chance for a successful outcome?”

“Yes.”

“Take comfort and strength from that. There is a chance for some healing where before there was none.” 

“Thank you, Deanna.” Beverly looked tired, Beverly suddenly _felt_ tired. There was a bone-weary tiredness that had washed through her, one that she’d been holding off with coffee and adrenaline for who knew how long. Who doctors the doctor? Who counsels the counselor?

“I’ll try to speak with Dr La Forge later,” Deanna said, “and if I sense that he’s amenable, I’ll see if he will come and talk to you.”

“Tell him how sorry I am,” Beverly said. “Tell him… tell him I wish there was another way.”

Deanna nodded. “I will. And as your Counselor and as your friend, will you try and get some sleep? I can’t order you, but I _could_ suggest that Captain Picard does.”

Beverly gave Deanna an eye-roll. “Don’t lecture me on sleep when you’re running on fumes yourself.”

 _Guilty as charged_ , Deanna thought. Between Data, Geordi and Dr La Forge she was exhausted and sleeping very little.

“We’ll do something soon,” Deanna said. “Something fun or silly or indulgent.”

“That sounds great.” Her words didn’t quite match her mood, but Deanna could tell that Beverly had appreciated the sentiment.

“Do you want to get some dinner later? We can talk things over and see where we want to go from wherever we are by then.”

Beverly smiled at Deanna’s roundabout logic. “My quarters? About 1930 hours?”

“That sounds like a plan.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Beverly said, getting slowly to her feet.

“I do think so. And so should you.”

Later that afternoon, Deanna ventured into sickbay to see if Dr La Forge wanted to talk. While she was still two decks away, she could feel there was something wrong, something badly wrong.

Deanna heard the screaming before the doors had even opened.

Geordi.

She headed directly for the side-room, his terror ripping into her mind. Two nurses were holding him down and they were yelling for sedation. Dr Selar strode past Deanna and pressed a hypospray into Geordi’s neck. His struggles began to weaken and he fell back onto the bed, sweat-drenched and terrified.

In the corner of the room, Dr La Forge stood motionless, his eyes locked on the suffering of his son. His helplessness consumed him and it swept over Deanna as Geordi’s terror faded beneath the weight of sedation.

Whilst Selar and the nurses attended to Geordi, Deanna went over to Edward.

“Sometimes…” Edward said, gazing at Geordi as his son sank into unconsciousness. “Sometimes he just wakes up screaming.”

“I know.”

“Every day he’s getting stronger. Physically, he’s getting stronger.”

Deanna nodded. Food, medical care and physical therapy were all helping to restore Geordi’s body to full health. His mind however, was another matter entirely.

“I know how much Dr Crusher’s proposal shocked you. I know how much the idea disgusts you. I’m sorry that it distressed you so much.”

Edward leaned against the wall, put his head back and closed his eyes. Tears filled his lashes and then they slipped down his face. He brushed them away but more fell until he was quietly sobbing in Deanna’s arms.

As Dr Selar and the nurses left the room, Deanna’s saw the Vulcan raise an eyebrow by way of comment.

After a time, when Edward’s tears had stalled, he and Deanna went over and sat next to Geordi’s bed. He took his son’s hand in both of his and folded it tightly between them.

“Will you tell Dr Crusher I’m sorry,” Dr La Forge said. “I know how hard she’s been working.”

“You don’t need to apologise. She wanted me to tell you how sorry _she_ is. That there wasn’t another way.”

Edward looked over to Deanna. “I never… I hadn’t thought…”

“I know. It was a huge shock. I can’t tell you how sorry we all are. As I understand it, the damage to Geordi’s brain is so extensive, that without the support of additional nano-cortical fibres, they won’t be able to regenerate his nerve tissue.”

“I just… I can’t bear the thought of more of those _things_ going into his head.”

“It’s not the fibres that did the damage exactly. They were there to learn and mimic Geordi’s synaptic pathways. They were there to map and then duplicate his neurology.”

“I know. I know that.”

“It was the irradiation that destroyed his brain cells. It’s that extensive damage that needs to be repaired or replaced. And they think they can do it. They have that map, they know exactly what is needed and where, in perfect detail.”

Edward shook his head. “They nearly killed him. They put these things into his brain and they nearly killed him.”

“I know he nearly died. But we also know that this technology worked in Geordi, or he wouldn’t still be alive.”

“So you think I should do this? I should agree to them… doing this?”

“I think that you shouldn’t make a decision while you’re so upset and distressed. I think you should talk it through with your daughter and your parents and the people who are closest to you. Then you can decide whether to go ahead with this or not.”

“And if I don’t? I’m condemning him to a life of this.” He laid a hand on Geordi’s forehead, who was deeply unconscious on the bed. Edward stroked his son’s hair with one hand and pulled Geordi’s fingers to his lips with the other. “What do I do?” he muttered into Geordi’s hand. “What do I do?”

“I can’t tell you, but I think you might already know.”

Edward looked at her and his piercing loss and desperate grief were overwhelming. 

“What do I know?”

“You know your son.”


End file.
